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THE   CRIMSON   CONQUEST 


THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 

OF  CALIFORNIA 

IRVINE 

GIFT  OF 

LEISURE  WORLD  LIBRARY 


"Quick!"  Cristoval  whispered,  "They  are  upon  us  !" 

[Page  196] 


THE    CRIMSON 
CONQUEST 

A  Romance  of  Pizarro  and  Peru 

BY 

CHARLES  BRADFORD  HUDSON 


With  Frontispiece  in  full  color  by 
J.  C.  LEYENDECKER 


CHICAGO 

A.  C.  McCLURG  &  CO. 
1907 


Copyright 

A.   C.   McClurg  &  Co. 
1907 

Published  October  5,  1907 
Entered  at  Stationers'  Hall,  London,  England 


T5 

35/5" 


C7 


The  University  Press,  Cambridge,  U.S.A. 


CONTENTS 

Chapter  Page 

I  Booty  from  Peru n 

II  The  Senora  Declares  a  Purpose 20 

III  Nipping  a  Conspiracy 29 

IV  The  Inca's  Encampment 40 

V  The  Monarch  and  the  Princess  Rava 48 

VI  The  Massacre 56 

VII  Cavalier  and  Cantinero 69 

VIII  An  Arm  of  the  Inquisition 82 

IX  Cristoval  Meets  the  Princess 89 

X  A  Royal  Ransom 101 

XI  The  Inca's  Last  Prayer 109 

XII  Vengeance  Foiled 118 

XIII  Cristoval  a  Prisoner 136 

XIV  Pedro  to  the  Rescue 144 

XV  The  Flight 159 

XVI  Pedro  in  the  Thumbscrews 171 

XVII  The  Fugitives  in  the  Wilderness 187 

XVIII  The  Vale  of  Xilcala 204 

XIX  Hearts  Perplexed 220 

XX  Hearts  Revealed  and  Sundered 231 

XXI  The  Senora  Descends  upon  Pedro 243 

XXII  Rava  in  the  Toils 254 

XXIII  Rogelio  Finds  Gall  and  Wormwood 265 

XXIV  Pedro  Seeks  Tidings  of  Cristoval „  277 

XXV  A  Glimpse  of  Cuzco 284 

XXVI  The  Inca  Manco 289 


vi  CONTENTS 

Chapter  Page 

XXVII  The  Incarial  Diadem  on  a  Spanish  Saddle-Bow      .     .  304 

XXVIII     Two  Comrades  Reunited 314 

XXIX     A  March  and  Another  Reunion 320 

XXX     An  Encounter  on  the  Plain  of  Chita 333 

XXXI     Inca  and  Conquistador 344 

XXXII     The  Storm  Breaks 352 

XXXIII  The  Doomed  City 361 

XXXIV  In  the  Burning  Palace 372 

XXXV     The  Lurking  Morisco 384 

XXXVI  The  Barricades 398 

XXXVII  A  Night  Attack  and  a  Deliverance 409 

XXXVIII  A  Tie  of  Mingled  Blood 424 

XXXIX  Again  the  Senora  Descends 435 

XL  Glory  and  Peace 448 


FOREWORD 

THIS  tale  is  to  be  of  days  when  the  green  forest- 
aisles  and  mountain  trails  of  America  saw  the 
glint  of  the  steel  of  men  in  armor.  It  will  have 
to  do  with  times  when  the  aborigine  looked  upon  the 
sparkle  of  lance,  the  flutter  of  pennon,  the  gleam  of  corse 
let,  helm,  and  morion,  and  felt  his  primeval  turf  tremble 
beneath  the  hoofs  of  steeds  in  full  panoply.  It  will  tell 
of  plumed  and  plated  cavaliers,  "  In  brave  pursuit  of  chiv 
alrous  emprise,"  who  found  in  the  wilderness  of  the  New 
World  adventures  no  less  hardy,  and  near  as  strange, 
as  any  fabled  one  encountered  by  knight  of  old. 

It  is  easily  half  forgotten  that  our  continent  has  its 
chronicles  which  link  us  with  the  age  of  chivalry ;  that  its 
soil  once  sustained  the  march  of  men  armed  cap-a-pie,  as 
bold  of  heart,  greedy  for  renown,  and  thirsty  for  blood, 
as  ever  a  crusader.  They  came,  proof-valiant  against  all 
peril;  of  a  fire-eating,  eager  courage  surpassed  alone  by 
their  truculence  and  cruelty ;  of  a  courage  to  meet  not  only 
dangers  real,  but  a  myriad  direful  ones  born  of  fancy.  For 
they  were,  withal,  men  of  imagination  and  fine,  wide  cre 
dulity.  They  peopled  the  West  with  Amazons,  giants, 
dragons,  and  legions  of  beings  of  varied  and  curious  mon 
strosity.  They  were  prepared  in  mind  not  only  to  fight 
battles,  but  to  encounter  sorcerers,  witches,  and  the  Fiend^ 
himself;  to  undergo  all  manner  of  spells,  charms,  en 
chantments,  and  kindred  grisly  experiences  and  phenom 
ena.  They  sought  earnestly,  conscientiously,  and  with 
diligence,  for<golden  Manoa  and  its  emperor,  El  Dorado, 
and  for  the  Fountain  of  Perpetual  Youth.  If  they  failed 
to  come  upon  these,  and  did  no  preternatural  deeds,  they 
were  none  the  less  heroes,  animated  by  the  spirit  of  knight- 
errantry,  which  with  them  took  its  final  leave  of  earth. 


THE   CRIMSON   CONQUEST 


THE 

CRIMSON  CONQUEST 

CHAPTER   I 
Booty  from  Peru 

TOWARD  the  end  of  a  day  in  the  year  Fifteen 
Hundred   and   Thirty- one,    as    the   air   cooled 
slightly  with  the   sun's  decline,  the   plaza  of 
the   little   Spanish   city   of  Panama  grew  lan 
guidly  animate.     The   square   had  blazed,    shimmered, 
and  baked  all  day,  shunned  in  its  fervor  except  by  those 
compelled  to  cross  it  in  order  to  avoid  the  exertion  of 
going  round,  or  by  the   few  straggling   natives  whose 
half -naked   bodies  and  sun -tanned    hides  were   proof; 
but  this  was  the  hour  of  listless  awakening,  and  groups 
formed  at  the  corners,  exchanging  gossip  —  if  by  a  bless 
ing  there  was   gossip  to   exchange  —  and  awaiting  the 
sole  break  in  the  sultry  monotony  of  the  day,  the  even 
ing  parade  of  the  garrison  with  its  stimulating  bang  of 
the  culverin  at  sunset. 

The  dominant  type  in  these  groups  was  that  of  the 
fighting  man.  Some  were  sailors,  a  few  were  planters  ; 
but  most  of  the  swarthy  faces  wore  the  unmistakable 
marks  of  the  soldier.  The  dress  and  bearing  of  a  small 
number  indicated  rank ;  but  all,  save  a  sprinkling  of  ec 
clesiastics  and  civil  officers  of  the  Crown,  were  adven 
turers,  and  bore  evidence,  in  their  worn  apparel,  in  their 
scars,  and  in  their  bronzed  and  weatherbeaten  features, 
of  severe  campaigns  and  hardship. 


12 

This  particular  evening  the  ceremony  of  the  parade 
received  less  than  usual  attention.  Two  ships  had  en 
tered  the  harbor  the  day  before,  bearing  news  and  plun 
der  from  Francisco  Pizarro's  expedition  to  the  coast  of 
South  America.  The  inn  at  the  side  of  the  plaza  was 
full  of  men.  Its  wineshop  was  overflowing,  but  the 
rattle  of  dice,  the  oaths,  and  controversy  were  wanting. 
In  front  lounged  a  crowd,  thickening  at  the  door,  where 
swayed  lazily  a  banner  displaying  a  device  new  to  her 
aldry,  —  the  arms  of  Pizarro.  At  the  portal  stood  a 
halberdier  in  corselet  and  morion  fresh-burnished,  re 
counting  with  vaunt  and  gasconade  an  alluring  tale  of 
rapine,  which  was  heard  with  varying  degrees  of  inter 
est,  credulity,  or  scepticism.  There  was  no  enthusi 
asm.  Some  sauntered  doubtfully  away.  A  few  heeded, 
and  finally  entered  the  door.  Within,  there  was  more 
animation. 

Behind  a  table  near  the  rear,  leaning  comfortably 
against  the  wall,  his  legs  sprawled  under  the  board  and 
his  hands  thrust  into  his  belt,  sat  a  sturdy  cavalier.  He 
was  listening  with  some  amusement  to  the  excited  com 
ments  of  the  men  about  him  as  they  passed  a  golden 
bracelet  of  barbaric  design  which  he  had  tendered  for 
their  inspection.  He  was  between  thirty-five  and  forty 
years  old  —  perhaps  nearer  the  latter.  His  sunbrowned 
countenance  gave  the  impression  of  being  stern,  almost 
fierce.  A  close-shorn  beard,  nearly  black,  covered  a 
firm,  well-formed  jaw,  and  with  the  trim  cut  of  his 
hair,  suggested  a  care  of  person  conspicuous  among 
the  rough-looking  campaigners  in  the  room.  The  up 
ward  twist  of  his  mustachios  and  strongly  aquiline 
nose  gave  his  face  a  pronounced  military  character, 
borne  out  presently,  when  he  straightened  up  from 
his  lounging  attitude,  by  the  erect  bearing  and  square 
ness  of  shoulder  that  belong  to  the  soldierly  calling. 


BOOTY    FROM    PERU  13 

A  closer  view  dispelled  the  first  notion  of  fierceness, 
for  from  the  ruggedly  marked  brows  looked  a  pair  of 
dark  eyes,  clear,  frank,  well  lined  about  with  crow's- 
feet,  and  enlivened  by  good  humor. 

While  he  conversed  with  those  nearest,  the  brace 
let  circulated  from  hand  to  hand,  was  scrutinized,  bitten, 
rung  upon  the  tables  to  test  its  metal,  and  was  finally 
handed  back  by  a  seedy-looking  soldier,  who  observed : 
"  By  my  faith,  Senor  Cristoval,  that  bauble  hath  the 
proper  color.  There  is  more  of  yellow  in  its  complexion 
than  I  've  seen  for  many  a  day.  Thou  mayst  set  me 
down.  I  go  to  Peru.  Hola  I  camaradas,  d'  ye  hear  ?  I 
go  to  Peru.  Who  will  follow?" 

His  example  and  the  lure  of  the  gold  had  their  sure 
effect.  In  a  moment  the  officer  was  busy  with  his  pen, 
while  an  eager  group  leaned  over  the  table  to  watch  as 
he  wrote  their  names  and  answers  to  his  brisk  ques 
tions.  Their  enthusiasm  spread  among  the  loungers 
outside,  and  before  it  subsided  a  dozen  or  more  en 
listed  for  the  expedition.  Most  of  the  recruits  were 
half-starved  fellows  who  had  idled  about  the  colony  for 
months,  unable  to  secure  employment  for  their  swords 
since  the  rebellion  in  Nicaragua  had  been  suppressed, 
and  disdainful  of  work  less  honorable.  A  few  were 
fully  equipped,  but  many  had  sold,  pawned,  or  gambled 
away  their  arms  and  armor,  and  had  only  their  rapiers, 
which  they  retained  as  a  necessity.  During  this  first 
day  of  recruiting,  a  score  had  been  sent  to  the  tem 
porary  quarters,  with  instructions  first  to  gather  up  or 
locate  whatever  of  equipment  they  could  find. 

Candles  had  been  brought,  the  room  had  nearly 
emptied,  and  the  officer  was  arranging  his  papers, 
when  he  heard  the  sound  of  hoofs  and  the  voice  of 
the  halberdier,  evidently  addressing  a  rider. 

"Hola,  Pedro!     Blessed  Faith!     Is  it  thou?" 


i4  THE   CRIMSON   CONQUEST 

The  response  was  not  immediate,  and  the  creaking 
of  the  saddle,  with  sundry  grunts  and  adjurations  to  the 
animal,  indicated  that  the  newcomer  was  dismounting. 
The  operation  was  made  difficult  by  the  fact  that  he 
had  a  wooden  leg,  the  left  having  been  taken  off  at  the 
knee.  He  puffed  as  he  finally  stood,  but  presently  an 
swered  the  soldier  in  a  voice  of  much  volume  and  with 
uncommon  blandness  and  fluency. 

"It  is  I,  —  that  is,  my  solid  parts.  Of  the  rest, 
those  volatile  are  volatilized  ;  those  meltable,  melted 
and  bedewing  the  grass  along  my  trail.  Thou  seest 
but  a  parboiled  residuum.  Wilt  hold  my  mule?" 

"Hold  thy  mule!"  replied  the  halberdier,  with 
proper  soldierly  scorn.  "Not  I,  by  the  fiend!" 

"Nay!  Keep  thy  temper,  my  lusty  buck  soldier," 
said  the  other,  with  suavity.  "  I  meant  no  flattery." 

"Flattery!" 

"In  offering  thee  the  privilege.  —  Here,  boy,"  he 
called  to  a  half-breed  urchin,  "  guard  my  steed.  But 
keep  in  front  of  him,  for  he  hath  a  twofold  nature,  — 
tender-hearted  to  a  fault  as  far  as  the  saddle-girth ;  be 
hind  it,  maleficent  as  the  powers  of  evil."  He  turned 
again  to  the  soldier.  "  Is  this  thy  recruiting  office,  Sehor 
Alabardero  ? ' ' 

"  Ah  !  "  assented  the  halberdier.  "  But,  Sacramento! 
Dost  think  to  enlist,  Pedro?" 

"And  why  not?"  demanded  Pedro. 

"  Why,  if  I  can  count,  thou  hast  legs  too  few  by 
half." 

"  Then  thou  canst  not  count,  for  I  have  three. 
Two  I  have  with  me,  —  one  mine  by  right  of  birth, 
the  other  by  right  of  purchase,  and  of  as  good  wood 
as  that  of  which  thy  head  is  made.  The  third  lieth 
in  Italy,  four  feet  under  ground,  but  still  mine,  nihilo 
minus,  —  which  is  Latin,  my  friend,  and  meaneth  'never- 


BOOTY   FROM   PERU  15 

theless.'  But  dost  require  more  legs  in  thy  recruits, 
halberdier?  If  so,  it  must  be  a  running  game,  this 
campaigning  in  Peru." 

"  Bastante  /"  growled  the  soldier.  "  Thou  hast  legs 
enough,  and  tongue  enough,  God  wot !  " 

"Good!     Then  I'll  enter.     Who  is  the  officer?" 

"Lieutenant  Cristoval  de  Peralta." 

"I've  heard  of  him,"  said  Pedro,  and  stumped 
into  the  room.  Cristoval  looked  up,  to  behold  a  man 
ten  -years  his  senior,  slightly  corpulent,  with  a  full 
round  face,  now  reddened  by  the  heat  and  exertion 
of  riding,  which  he  mopped  vigorously  as  he  advanced 
with  sombrero  under  his  arm.  Smooth-shaven,  some 
what  bald,  and  with  gray  hair  closely  cropped,  there 
was  a  suggestion  of  the  priest  or  monk  in  his  counte 
nance,  further  aided  by  the  genial  benignancy  of  his 
expression.  A  frock  would,  indeed,  have  made  him 
the  most  jovial-looking  of  ecclesiastics,  and  his  well- 
fed  and  comfortable  appearance  would  have  helped  the 
disguise.  A  large  mouth,  a  nose  formidable  but  well 
shaped,  and  eyes  with  ever  a  lurking  twinkle,  made 
up  a  face  to  be  warmed  to  at  first  glimpse.  The  pre 
cision  of  his  salute  left  no  doubt  in  Cristoval's  mind 
that  the  missing  leg  had  been  lost  on  the  battle-field, 
and  he  surveyed  the  man  with  interest. 

"Let  me  not  interrupt,  Sehor  Tentente,"  said  Pedro. 
"I  am  in  no  hurry." 

"  I  have  finished,"  replied  Cristoval.  "  How  can 
I  serve  thee  ?  " 

"Thou'rt  recruiting  for  Pizarro  ?  " 

Cristoval  nodded,  thinking  of  the  rabble  already 
enrolled  that  day,  and  wondering  whether  this  one- 
legged  veteran  purposed  offering  himself. 

"  Bien  !  "  said  Pedro.    "  I  would  join  the  expedition." 

"But  thou 'rt  maimed,  compadreljt 


16  THE   CRIMSON    CONQUEST 

"  Como  asil  Just  so!"  replied  the  other,  with  a 
wave  of  the  hand.  "  I  'm  not  all  here,  as  the  cannoneer 
observed  when  his  pieces  were  scattered  over  a  thou 
sand  yards  by  the  explosion  of  his  gun.  But  there  is 
enough  of  me  for  the  purpose,  senor,  for  I  am  a  cook,  — 
a  cantinero.  I  seek  not  to  enlist,  but  the  privilege  of 
filling  a  moderate  space  aboard  thy  brigantine  with  my 
self,  my  helper,  called  Pedrillo,  and  such  stores  and 
gear  as  will  fit  a  canteen." 

"  Draw  up  a  chair,"  said  Cristoval,  pleased  with  the 
cook's  manner.  "We  will  consider  it.  Thy  name?" 

"Pedro." 

"  So  I  heard  thee  called  by  the  halberdier." 

"Ah!  — the  rest  of  my  name?  H'm !  Why,  I'll 
tell  thee,  senor,  I  have  not  always  been  a  cook  —  and 
—  pardon  me  —  " 

"  I  see,"  said  Cristoval,  with  delicacy.  "  No  tmporta. 
We  '11  let  it  go.  Thou  'rt  Pedro." 

Pedro  bowed.  After  some  conversation  the  ar 
rangement  was  made.  "  Now,"  said  Cristoval,  "  there 
are  three  or  four  of  us  from  the  ship  quartered  together, 
and  we  need  a  cook.  There  is  Ruiz,  the  pilot ;  Jose, 
the  principal  armorer ;  and  I  look  for  De  Soto  from 
Nombre  de  Dios.  He  is  to  command  when  we  sail. 
Couldst  take  charge  of  the  rancho  whilst  we  remain  in 
Panama  ?  Couldst  begin  at  once  ?  Good  !  Then  't  is 
agreed.  I  've  taken  the  inn  kept  by  Senora  Bolio  for 
quarters  for  the  company,  but  her  cooks  are  all  Indies 
and  worthless,  and —  What  aileth  thee,  man?" 

At  the  senora's  name  Pedro  opened  his  mouth, 
pushed  back  his  chair,  and  sat  looking  at  the  cavalier 
in  manifest  disquiet.  "  Bolio  !  "  he  whispered.  "Bolio  ! 
Dost  know  her,  Senor  Teniente?" 

"No.  What  of  her?"  demanded  Cristoval,  re 
membering  that  certain  of  his  recruits  had  heard  her 


BOOTY    FROM    PERU  17 

name  with  similar  uneasiness.  "  I  saw  her  only  for 
a  moment  when  we  came  ashore  yesterday.  Dost 
know  her,  thou?" 

Pedro  turned  away  with  a  gesture  as  if  to  wave 
him  off.  He  faced  about.  "  Do  I  know  her  !  Warily 
and  charily,  senor  —  as  a  pup  knoweth  the  family  cat ! 
Ah,  Madre  I  Lieutenant  Cristoval,  she  hath  a  tongue 
like  a  flail  —  like  a  red-hot  rapier.  Thou  shouldst 
hear  her  storm  —  at  some  other  man  —  when  she  is 
roused !  Nay,  smile  not !  I  once  heard  her  be 
rating  her  servants,  and  they  wilted,  withered,  shriv 
elled  like  spiders  on  a  hot  skillet.  Ah,  stew  me ! 
Bolio  !  " 

"  Thou  dost  stir  mine  interest,  Pedro,"  said  Cristoval. 
"Who  is  the  lady?" 

Pedro  laid  a  broad  hand  upon  the  table  with  sup 
pressed  vehemence.  "  Bolio  !  "  he  replied,  as  if  nothing 
could  be  added. 

"I  know  little  save  from  hearsay,  senor,"  he  con 
tinued  ;  "  she  was  a  <vvvandera  with  the  armies  in  Italy  in 
her  youth.  Thou  knowest  that  training.  Diablo!  I  saw 
her  in  the  Neapolitan  campaign  against  Louis  XII." 

Cristoval  interrupted.  "  What !  Didst  serve  with 
Gonsalvo  ?  " 

"  With  the  Great  Captain,"  said  Pedro. 

"  Then,  by  Saint  Michael,  we  were  comrades !  " 

Pedro  nodded  without  surprise,  and  continued 
quickly:  "She  had  beauty  then,  senor.  Poor  girl! 
She  was  learning,  by  hard  experience,  to  hold  all  men 
her  enemies.  She  hath  not  forgotten.  I  heard  of  her 
again  in  the  campaign  of  '22,  and  again  at  Pavia,  where 
I  left  my  leg.  After  that,  no  more  until  I  found  her 
here  at  Panama,  two  years  ago.  It  is  said  she  worked 
her  way  hither  from  Spain,  disguised  as  a  common 
sailor,  and  I  doubt  it  not,  for  I  have  known  of  another 


i8  THE    CRIMSON    CONQUEST 

woman  who  did  as  much.  For  cierto,  her  eloquence  was 
not  gained  in  camps  alone  !  It  hath  the  savor  of  the  sea 
as  well,  and  she  commandeth  the  most  vigorous  that 
each  affordeth,  my  head  upon  it !  But  whatever  her 
youth,  Senor  Cristoval,  the  saints  preserve  the  man  who 
would  turn  a  soft  eye  upon  her  to-day.  She  weigheth,  I 
should  guess,  some  twelve  or  fourteen  stone.  'T  is  all 
hostility!  " 

Cristoval  reflectively  gathered  up  his  papers. 
"Well,"  he  said,  "we  can  pray  for  peace.  Let 
us  go." 

"Whither?"  asked  Pedro. 

"To  the  senora's." 

"  Misericordia !  I  think  I  had  best  ride  back  to  my 
hacienda  for  the  night,  Senor  Teniente." 

"How  far?"  asked  Cristoval. 

"Three  leagues  or  less." 

"  Absurd,  Pedro  !  Thou  'rt  to  begin  thy  duties  in 
the  morning.  Come." 

Accompanied  reluctantly  by  the  stout  cook  leading 
his  mule,  and  followed  by  the  halberdier,  Cristoval  led 
down  a  narrow,  garbage-littered  street  to  a  large  house 
built  around  the  usual  patio.  It  had  been  the  residence 
of  some  officer  of  government,  and  its  size  made  it  suit 
able  for  the  recruiting  officer,  the  poverty  of  whose 
levies  made  it  necessary  to  provide  for  their  keep  before 
sailing  to  join  Pizarro.  They  entered  the  suggestively 
quiet  court,  and  having  seen  that  his  recruits  had  made 
proper  use  of  the  kitchen,  Cristoval  gave  orders  con 
cerning  quarters  for  the  night,  and  ascended  to  the 
second  floor  in  quest  of  the  sehora.  He  found  her 
alone  in  a  dim-lighted,  lofty,  bare-walled  apartment,  — 
the  salon  of  the  establishment  in  its  better  days. 

The  senora  was  a  black-haired,  black-eyed  woman 
of  generous  proportions.  She  wore,  now  and  generally, 


BOOTY    FROM    PERU  19 

an  air  of  stern  repression  of  what  Cristoval,  after 
Pedro's  account,  knew  to  be  the  hostility  mentioned. 
Notwithstanding  the  marring  effects  of  a  stormy  career 
on  her  rather  florid  face,  she  was  not  uncomely-  Her 
eyes  were  those  of  her  race,  which  seem  always  smoul 
dering  with  the  fire  of  passion,  gentle  or  the  reverse  as 
the  case  may  be.  She  received  the  cavalier  with  dig 
nity ;  heard  his  explanation  of  Pedro's  status;  directed, 
coldly,  that  her  servants  be  called  upon  for  assistance, 
and  Cristoval  bowed  himself  away  with  relief. 


CHAPTER  II 
The  Senora  Declares  a  Purpose 

THE  next  day  the  whole  city  crowded  to  look 
upon  the  booty  from  Peru,  on  display  at  the 
office  of  the  governor,  and  many  an  adventurer, 
after  feasting  his  eyes  on  the  gleaming  treasure, 
went  straight  to  the  door  beneath  the  banner  of  the 
"  Army  of  the  Conquest."      Thereafter   the  recruiting 
went   on   rapidly,    and   the    Bolio   establishment   soon 
wore  the  appearance  of  a  barrack.     When  sufficiently 
advertised  the  office  was  transferred  from  the  square, 
and  now  the  banner  floated  over  the  Bolio  gate. 

The  arrival  of  Hernando  de  Soto  with  a  small 
company  lent  new  impetus.  The  participation  of  a 
leader  of  his  reputation  gave  confidence  to  many  who 
had  hesitated  to  enlist  in  an  enterprise  which  had 
already  met  serious  reverses  and  was  led  by  one  com 
monly  regarded  as  visionary.  Neither  Pizarro  nor  his 
partner,  Diego  de  Almagro,  had  been  known  as  other  than 
needy  soldiers  of  fortune,  and  not  even  the  countenance 
given  by  the  Crown  of  Spain  had  raised  them  above 
the  derisive  scepticism  of  Panama.  It  had  long  been 
incredulous  regarding  a  rich  and  civilized  empire  to  the 
southward,  and  had  been  niggardly  in  its  support.  The 
two  preceding  expeditions  had  met  disaster  complete  ; 
but  the  leaders  persisted  with  unconquered  resolution, 
and  the  matter  began  to  assume  moment.  There  were 
scoffers  still,  but  many  who  had  held  aloof  hastened 


THE  SENORA  DECLARES  A  PURPOSE  21 

to  offer  service.  Most  of  the  levies  were  drawn  by 
mere  hope  of  plunder,  or  driven  by  sheer  necessity. 
Some  were  impelled  by  ambition  for  the  sort  of  glory 
won  by  the  conquerors  of  Mexico.  A  few  were  at 
tracted  by  the  audacity  and  perseverance  of  the  com 
mander,  but  these  qualities  were  not  uncommon  enough 
to  give  Pizarro  preeminence  among  men  of  a  race  then 
unsurpassed  in  its  soldiery,  and  of  all  considerations 
they  weighed  the  least. 

Whatever  the  motives  that  led  recruits  to  Pizarro's 
banner,  they  comprised  all  sorts  and  conditions  of  men, 
from  the  noble  and  hidalgo  to  the  fugitive  from  the 
law  —  younger  sons  of  ancient  families  bearing  his 
toric  names ;  veterans  of  European  wars,  free-lances 
from  every  country  on  the  northern  shores  of  the 
Mediterranean.  It  was  a  band  as  mixed  as  the 
swarms  of  pirates  infesting  the  Indies  in  later  years, 
and  hardly  less  ferocious  in  hunger  for  blood  and 
plunder. 

The  days  flew  quickly,  and  few  remained  before  the 
command  should  embark.  Considering  the  character  of 
the  men,  the  preparations  had  gone  on  smoothly.  But 
there  had  been,  it  must  be  said,  certain  flurries,  even 
small  tempests,  from  another  source.  These  episodes 
were  due  to  the  temperament  and  powers  of  Senora 
Bolio.  This  worthy  lady  proved  to  be  a  slumbering 
volcano  —  yet  not  always  slumbering  —  with  poten 
tialities  that  justified  the  impressive  words  of  Pedro. 
She  erupted  unexpectedly,  for  causes  unforeseen,  and 
spread  sudden  confusion  throughout  the  establishment. 
There  would  be  heard  from  time  to  time  in  the  patio 
a  quick  disturbance,  a  scurrying  of  soldiery,  and  then  a 
tirade  in  the  deep  tones  of  the  senora,  matchless  for 
rapid  invective.  Perhaps  a  soldier,  a  newcomer  to 
Panama,  would  venture  to  oppose  her  eloquence  with 


22  THE   CRIMSON    CONQUEST 

his  own,  like  in  kind,  but  feeble  in  comparison.  It 
was  only  to  court  defeat  and  humiliation. 

To  Cristoval,  at  first  amusing,  it  soon  grew  mo 
notonous,  and  as  his  time  became  precious,  an  annoy 
ance  and  irritation.  He  appealed  to  Pedro,  in  whom 
there  might  lie  hope. 

"  In  the  name  of  the  fiend,  Pedro,"  said  he,  "  canst 
suppress  that  woman?  If  so,  do  it  —  in  a  gentle  way 
if  possible  ;  for  she  is  a  woman.  Those  varlets  below 
deserve  their  flaying,  but  it  groweth  wearisome." 

Pedro  shook  his  head.  "  I  doubt  if  she  could  be 
estopped  by  anything  short  of  strangulation.  How 
ever,  I  '11  cast  about "  But  he  muttered  as  he  moved 
away :  "  Now  the  saints  lend  me  their  protection ! 
This  is  what  cometh  of  being  a  cook." 

Thereafter,  when  the  lady  broke  out,  Pedro,  with 
marvellous  patience,  would  go  to  the  patio,  approach 
her  with  all  deference,  and  oppose  her  torrent  with 
an  equal  flood  of  apologies,  assurances,  entreaties,  com 
pliments,  and  cajoleries,  with  splendid  versatility.  And 
however  great  her  rage,  the  moment  would  come  when 
Madame  would  stop  to  listen  —  and  be  undone.  The 
cook  would  thereupon  lead  her  ceremoniously  to  her 
door,  bow  her  across  the  threshold,  and  return  to  his 
kitchen  leaving  the  lady  appeased.  But  having  regained 
his  privacy,  Pedro  would  swear  roundly. 

These  repeated  softenings  were  not  without  their 
effect  upon  the  senora.  This  effect  was  cumulative. 
As  the  days  went  by  it  grew  apparent  that  in  her  hos 
tility  toward  mankind  she  made  the  suave  cantinero  an 
exception.  This  he  noticed  at  first  with  natural  com 
placency.  Later,  when  her  attitude  became  one  of  tol 
erant  friendliness,  he  blessed  his  stars,  vowing  privately 
that  his  circumspection  should  be  without  a  flaw.  Still 
later,  as  a  consequence,  the  senora's  amiability  grew 


THE  SENORA  DECLARES  A  PURPOSE  23 

more  pronounced,  expressed  by  small  favors,  and  even 
by  occasional  invitations  to  sup.  The  good  Pedro's 
serenity  increased,  and  its  influence  seemed  to  spread 
over  the  establishment.  Alas  for  his  tranquillity,  for 
its  life  was  short !  The  senora  had  speaking  eyes, 
and  as  they  looked  with  growing  favor  upon  the 
gracious  cook,  they  softened  in  a  measure  that  could 
never  have  escaped  one  less  unsuspecting  than  he. 

Pedro  went  his  placid  way,  unconscious  of  the 
growing  tenderness,  until  a  glance  awoke  him  to  his 
peril.  There  was  no  doubt,  no  need  of  words  to  in 
terpret.  It  was  only  a  glance  in  passing,  but  Pedro 
looked  after  the  lady  in  consternation.  As  she  passed 
he  crossed  himself,  stood  a  moment,  then  deserted 
his  task  and  stumped  with  precipitation  to  the  first 
refuge  —  to  Cristoval.  The  cavalier  looked  up  as  the 
cook  entered.  Pedro  sank  into  a  chair. 

"Ho!  Pedro,  what  is  to  do?"  demanded  the  cava 
lier,  surveying  his  agitation  with  concern.  "  What  hath 
happened?" 

Pedro  stared  at  him  in  silence,  with  parted  lips, 
and  in  abstraction.  He  seemed  not  to  have  heard  the 
question,  nor  to  see  his  questioner,  in  the  absorption 
of  contemplating  the  tacit  revelation  of  a  moment  be 
fore,  with  the  possible  complexities  to  follow.  Senora 
Bolio's  avowal  was  unspoken,  but  how  long  would  the 
silence  be  preserved  ?  And  with  the  ardor  of  that 
impetuous  nature  turned  to  tender  passion,  with  her 
boundless  powers  of  utterance  directed  against  him  as 
its  object!  —  ah,  1)ios  I  what  would  become  of  him? 

Again  Cristoval  demanded,  more  than  half  alarmed  : 
"  What  is  it,  Pedro  ?  Name  of  a  saint !  Why  dost 
stare  in  that  ghastly  way  ?  Come  !  Speak,  man  ! 
Hast  lost  thy  tongue  ?  " 

Pedro,  still  speechless,  gathered  up  his,  apron  and 


24  THE   CRIMSON    CONQUEST 

wiped  his  forehead ;  placed  a  fist  upon  either  knee,  and 
glowered  at  the  floor.  Cristoval  leaned  back  in  aston 
ishment.  Never  before  had  Pedro's  language  failed. 
Once  more  the  cook  passed  his  apron  across  his  brow, 
glanced  again  at  Cristoval,  arose  abruptly,  and  went  as 
far  as  the  door.  Here  he  paused,  hesitated,  then  turn 
ing  back,  whispered  hoarsely,  "  Senor  Cristoval,  by  the 
gods  of  heathens,  I  've — I  've  overdone  it!  " 

"  Overdone  it !  Overdone  what,  thou  mysterious 
cook?"  But  Pedro  had  gone. 

He  regained  his  kitchen  by  stealth,  moving  by  short 
dashes,  with  many  a  halt  to  reconnoitre.  His  boy- 
helper,  Pedrillo,  was  there,  and  approaching,  Pedro 
clutched  him  by  the  arm.  "Pedrillo,"  he  said ^  sol 
emnly  :  "  Pedrillo,  have  I  been  good  to  thee  ?  " 

Pedrillo  looked  up  with  wide-open  eyes.  "  Why  — 
bodkins !  —  of  a  surety,  Master  !  Who  saith  not  ?  " 

"  No  one  hath  said.  But  hear  me,  Pedrillo  !  —  as 
thou  hopest  some  day  to  be  a  cook,  stay  by  me !  Stay 
by  me  !  Dost  understand  ?  Until  we  are  safe  aboard 
ship,  leave  me  not  for  a  minute  !  — not  a  minute  !  " 

"Cre/o/"  exclaimed  the  astonished  boy.  "What 
is  wrong,  senor  ?  Do  —  do  you  have  fits  ?  " 

"  It  will  be  worse  than  fits,  Pedrillo,"  replied  Pedro, 
seriously,  "  if  thou  failest  me  an  instant.  Promise  !  " 

Pedrillo  promised,  swore  to  it,  and  for  the  rest  of 
the  day  watched  his  patron  in  mystification.  There 
after  the  cook  slept  with  his  heavy  furniture  piled 
against  the  door. 

Pedrillo  kept  his  word  as  far  as  possible  ;  but  vigi 
lance  cannot  be  eternal,  and  sometimes  Pedro  was 
alone.  On  one  of  these  occasions  the  worst  befell. 
The  sefiora  entered.  That  she  came  with  fell  purpose 
Pedro  divined  at  a  glance.  He  saw  flashes  of  soft  light 
ning  in  her  eyes,  more  dreaded  now  than  the  blaze  of 


THE  SENORA  DECLARES  A  PURPOSE  25 

her  ire.  Instinctively  he  placed  himself  with  the  table 
between. 

The  lady  looked  quickly  about,  and  approaching, 
said  in  a  tone  he  had  not  heard  her  use  before,  "  Pedro, 
I  have  a  word  for  thee." 

"Oh,  the  fiend,  senora!"  he  interrupted,  paling 
slightly  and  looking  for  Pedrillo.  "  Say  it  to  some  one 
else  —  now  do  !  There  's  a  good  woman  !  I  —  stew 
me  !  —  I  am  a  busy  man.  I  have  a  roast  on  the  point  of 
burning,  I  swear  it!  Come,  now,  I  —  " 

"  It  is  for  thee,  Pedro,"  she  said  with  resolution,  but 
Pedro  noted  with  relief  that  she  spoke  slowly.  He  had 
expected  a  storm  of  tender  protestations  without  prel 
ude,  as  vehement  as  her  upbraidings  of  the  men.  "  It 
is  for  thee,"  she  said  again,  and  Pedro  quailed. 

"  Nay,  Senora  Bolio,"  he  pleaded.  "  Be  discreet,  I 
pray  thee  !  Talk  of  it  first  to  —  to  Father  Gregorio, 
now.  Thou'rt  young,  and  —  "  The  senora  blushed, 
and  Pedro  cursed  the  slip.  Said  she : 

"  I  will  talk  to  Father  Gregorio  later,  Pedro ;  but 
first  to  thee." 

Pedro  groaned,  and  swore  under  his  breath.  "  Hold, 
senora!  "  he  cried.  "  Thou  'rt  making  a  mistake.  Say 
it  not  to  me  —  to  some  other  man.  To  Peralta  —  to 
De  Soto!  They  are  good  men  both;  but  I  —  " 

"  And  so  art  thou  !  "  she  said  hastily,  "though  once  I 
did  think  thee  a  knave,  like  the  rest." 

"  Ah  !  So  I  am!  So  I  am !  "  cried  Pedro  with  im 
petuosity.  "  That  and  worse,  my  word  for  it  !  I  am  a 
very  Turk  —  a  basilisk  !  Senora,  thou  knowest  not  the 
depth  of  mine  iniquities  —  and  moreover,  I  have  but  one 
leg.  Consider  that !  Peralta  hath  two  good  ones.  I  am 
incomplete  —  a  cripple  —  a  —  " 

"  Oh,  Pedro,  thou  'rt  the  only  man  I  ever  knew!  " 
interrupted  the  lady,  with  fervor ;  then,  rapidly : 


26  THE    CRIMSON    CONQUEST 

"  Thou  'rt  a  good  man,  Pedro,  and  hast  a  kindly  heart. 
Not  once  beneath  this  roof  hast  thou  used  an  unbecom 
ing  word  to  me.  Whilst  these  scapins  of  soldiers  have 
tried  my  patience  with  their  insolence,  thou  hast  spoken 
only  with  gentleness  —  and  't  is  rare  enough  to  me  — 
rare  enough,  God  knoweth !  "  She  brushed  away  a 
coming  tear.  "  But  I  have  come  to  tell  thee,  Pedro  —  " 

"  Do  not  say  it!  Do  not  say  it!  "  shouted  Pedro  in 
desperation.  "  I  tell  thee,  senora —  " 

"  But  I  will  say  it,"  she  said  with  a  sudden  return 
of  firmness.  "  And  why  not  ?  I  've  come  to  tell  thee  — 
I  am  going  to  Peru.  Why  should  I  not  say  it?  " 

Pedro  staggered.  "  Is  that  all  ?  "  he  exploded.  "  Is 
that  all?  Naught  else?" 

"  Numskull!  "  retorted  the  lady.  "  Is  it  not  enough  ? 
What  more  wouldst  have  me  say  ?  " 

"Nothing  more,  by  the  Sacrament!  'Tis  enough! 
Why  didst  not  say  it  in  the  beginning?"  and  Pedro's 
good  knee  grew  suddenly  weak,  as  if  he  had  been 
snatched  from  death.  The  senora  regarded  him  kindly 
for  a  moment,  and  went  on  : 

"  I  am  going  to  Peru  —  not  now,  for  De  Soto  hath 
denied  me  passage  —  but  later.  I  '11  find  thee,  good 
Pedro.  We  shall  meet  again."  Pedro's  jaw  set,  but  he 
said  nothing. 

She  took  a  step  forward  and  said  gently,  "  Pedro  — 
Pedrillo  entered,  almost  embraced  by  his  master,  who 
at  once  became  feverishly  occupied  in  a  variety  of  du 
ties.  The  senora  tarried  a  moment  and  withdrew,  with 
a  smile  to  Pedro,  who  sank  into  a  chair  and  used  his 
apron  on  his  forehead  with  industry,  pausing  at  inter 
vals  with  his  hands  on  his  knee  to  glower  at  the  floor. 
The  senora  was  going  to  Peru  ! 

De  Soto  took  command  a  few  days  later,  and  the 
force  marched  to  the  Cathedral,  where  solemn  High 


THE  SENORA  DECLARES  A  PURPOSE  27 

Mass  was  celebrated  and  the  sacrament  partaken  of  by 
every  soldier.  The  two  brigantines  for  the  expedition 
rode  at  anchor  off  the  town ;  before  midday  they  were 
standing  out  to  sea. 

You  may  learn,  Reader,  from  history,  how  Pizarro, 
strengthened  by  De  Soto's  reenforcement,  descended 
upon  the  Peruvian  city  of  Tumbez,  and  how  he  found 
it  in  ruins,  the  result  of  a  civil  war  between  the  two 
heirs  of  the  Inca  Huayna  Capac.  The  old  monarch 
had  left  his  domain  to  be  divided  between  the  princes 
Atahualpa  and  Huascar,  fatuously  hoping  that  either 
would  be  content  with  less  than  the  whole.  For  five 
short  years  the  brother  kings  had  reigned  in  peace. 
Atahualpa,  younger  of  the  two,  was  son  to  a  princess 
of  Quito,  a  kingdom  conquered  by  his  grandfather.  He 
was  an  ambitious  and  warlike  ruler,  and  to  him  fell 
Quito  as  Huayna  Capac's  bequest.  To  the  elder  brother, 
Huascar,  fell  Cuzco,  the  ancient  capital,  and  the  south 
ern  part  of  the  empire.  Huascar  was  the  son  of  the 
legitimate  wife  of  Huayna  Capac,  a  woman  of  the  Inca 
blood ;  and  although  a  wise  and  generous  king,  he  was 
inferior  to  Atahualpa  in  aggressive  energy.  Causes  were 
not  long  wanting  for  war.  Huascar  was  vanquished, 
and  when  Pizarro  landed  at  Tumbez,  was  prisoner  in 
the  fortress  of  Xauxa.  Thus  much,  briefly,  Pizarro 
learned  concerning  the  country  he  was  invading,  and 
that  Atahualpa  with  his  victorious  army  lay  at  the 
interior  town  of  Caxamalca,  some  three  hundred  miles 
to  the  southward. 

You  may  read,  furthermore,  how  the  Spaniard, 
tarrying  not  long  at  ruined  Tumbez,  marched  down 
along  the  coast,  peaceably  for  the  most  part,  by  rigid 
restraint  of  his  men,  and  was  hospitably  welcomed 
by  the  wondering  natives.  Three  weeks  he  marched, 


28  THE    CRIMSON    CONQUEST 

proclaiming  the  temporal  sovereignty  of  the  King  of  Spain, 
the  spiritual  sovereignty  of  the  Pope  of  Rome,  unfolding 
his  banners,  and  formally  recording  as  acknowledgment 
of  vassalage  the  acquiescence  of  the  Peruvians  to  mani 
festoes  of  whose  sense  they  had  no  inkling.  Fine  hardi 
hood  !  With  a  handful  of  men  —  fewer  than  two  hundred 
and  fifty —  Pizarro  was  invading  an  empire  of  whose  civi 
lization  and  warlike  character  there  was  ample  evidence. 
He  was  calmly  laying  claim  to  the  realm  of  a  prince 
whose  power  he  could  not  guess ! 

Toward  the  end  of  May  he  halted  in  the  fertile  vale 
of  Tangarala,  near  the  sea,  and  announced  his  purpose 
to  build  a  town.  And  build  a  town  he  did  !  He  pressed 
the  natives  into  service,  and  they  quarried  the  stone  and 
hewed  the  timber  for  buildings  as  solid  as  his  own  in 
trepidity.  He  named  trie  place  San  Miguel. 

Four  months  were  consumed  in  establishing  this 
base.  On  the  twenty-fourth  of  September  the  Army 
of  the  Conquest  took  up  its  march  to  meet  the  legions  of 
the  Inca.  The  command,  reduced  by  the  number  left 
at  San  Miguel,  mustered  seventy  horse,  one  hundred 
infantry,  and  two  small  pieces  of  artillery. 


CHAPTER   III 
Nipping  a  Conspiracy 

THE  column  found  convenient  halting  places  in 
the  caravansaries,  or  tambos,  established  for  the 
troops  of  the  Inca.  These  were  of  great  extent, 
with  barracks,  magazines,  and  extensive  forti 
fications.  They  afforded  more  than  ample  security  for 
Pizarro's  force,  and  he  availed  himself  of  their  shelter  and 
stores  of  food  without  scruple. 

Five  days  out  from  San  Miguel  there  occurred  an  in 
cident  but  for  which  this  story  had  not  been  written,  —  an 
incident,  not  only  of  momentous  import  to  the  fortunes  of 
Cristoval  in  its  sequence,  but  one  which  threatened  as  well 
to  end  Pizarro's  dream  of  conquest. 

The  command  had  halted)  at  a  tambo,  finding  it,  as 
usual,  ungarrisoned.  Details  were  quickly  made  for  guard 
and  other  duties,  and  Cristoval  was  assigned  to  command 
a  patrol  to  reconnoitre  the  neighboring  village.  An  hour 
after  sunset  the  detachment  returned,  and  Cristoval  went 
to  his  quarters  to  disarm.  De  Soto  entered  a  moment  later, 
and  together  they  repaired  to  Pedro's. 

The  portly  cook  had  already  established  himself  as  no 
mean  adjunct  of  the  expeditionary  force,  and  at  every  halt 
set  up  his  caniina,  opened  his  wineskins,  and  served  what 
ever  broils,  fries,  or  stews  his  unscrupulous  energy  as  a 
forager  made  possible.  He  was  a  good  cook,  his  kettles 
and  spits  always  held  something  more  savory  than  the 
kitchens  of  the  companies  afforded,  and  as  a  consequence 


3o  THE    CRIMSON    CONQUEST 

he  was  well  patronized  by  the  soldiers,  of  whatever  rank. 
On  the  march,  with  Pedrillo  leading  his  two  pack  mules, 
himself  astride  of  an  ambling  gray,  his  peg-leg  in  a  stirrup 
specially  contrived,  his  saddle  festooned  with  vegetables 
and  other  predatory  trophies,  he  brought  up  the  rear  or 
jogged  along  beside  the  column,  bantering  the  soldiers, 
telling  droll  stories,  or  singing  ballads  of  doubtful  pro 
priety.  When  camp  was  made,  headquarters  were  not 
established  more  promptly  than  Pedro's  cook  shop,  and 
from  sunset  until  closed  by  the  rounds  it  was  full  of  men, 
eating,  gambling,  or  drinking  chicha,  the  native  beverage 
distilled  from  maize. 

Places  were  made  for  the  two  cavaliers  at  one  of  the 
tables,  and  soon  Pedro  limped  across  the  room,  wiping  his 
hands  on  an  apron  once  white.  "  Well,  Senor  Cristoval," 
said  he,  lounging  against  the  table,  "  what  news?  " 

"News?    I'm  hungry." 

"  No  news  at  all !  "  retorted  Pedro.  "  Who  ever  knew 
thee  otherwise?  I  have  better.  A  few  more  turns,  and 
I  '11  have  a  haunch  of  llama  done  to  a  brown ;  and  it  will 
taste  none  the  worse  for  the  fact  that  it  is  a  misdemeanor 
for  anyone  but  an  Inca  —  a  noble,  that  is  —  to  eat  of  it." 

"  Oh,  Pedro,  thou  prince  of  foragers !  "  exclaimed  Cris 
toval.  "  How  earnest  thou  by  it?  " 

"  Why,"  said  Pedro,  "  I  made  an  excursion  this  morning 
with  my  boy." 

"  Unhappy  Peru !    Well?" 

"  Well,  we  met  a  herder  on  the  road,  a  few  miles  back, 
with  a  beautiful  drove.  We  dismounted,  my  boy  and  I,  and 
I  paraded  my  wooden  leg  to  the  marvel  of  the  Indio ;  took 
a  pack  of  cards  from  my  saddle-bag  and  wrought  divers 
tricks  of  magic  —  vanishing  cards  and  the  like  —  thou 
knowest;  swallowed  a  horseshoe  nail  and  took  it  out  of 
mine  ear;  swallowed  it  again  and  took  it  out  of  his  ear. 
He  was  spellbound  with  wonder  —  turned  to  stone,  as  if 


NIPPING    A   CONSPIRACY  31 

he  had  looked  upon  the  aegis  of  Minerva,  —  and  at  this 
juncture  my  boy  threw  his  jacket  over  the  head  of  one  of 
the  calves,  or  lambs,  or  colts,  or  pups,  or  whatever  Heaven 
may  be  pleased  to  call  the  offspring  of  these  heathen  quad 
rupeds,  and  vanished  into  the  bush.  He  might  have  re 
moved  the  herd  entire!  I  patted  the  Indio  on  the  back, 
embraced  him  as  a  brother  —  found  he  had  no  pockets !  — 
and  sent  him  on  his  way.  When  last  we  saw  him  his  jaws 
were  still  agape !  " 

As  Pedro  finished,  his  face  grew  red,  his  eyes  closed 
in  a  convulsion  which  gradually  extended  over  his  broad 
body,  and  from  the  depths  came  a  succession  of  wheezes 
that  shook  his  frame.  He  made  no  other  sound.  Apo 
plexy  seemed  imminent,  and  Cristoval  exclaimed :  — 

"  Gods,  man !  Be  sparing  of  thy  laughter,  if  that  is 
the  form  it  taketh.  Thou  'it  too  plethoric  to  do  it  safely, 
Pedro!" 

Pedro's  symptoms  subsided,  and  he  stumped  away 
to  send  Pedrillo  with  the  roast. 

A  few  minutes  later  an  orderly  entered,  seeking  De 
Soto.  The  latter  rose,  and,  saying  that  he  would  return 
presently,  followed  the  messenger,  leaving  Cristoval  dawd 
ling  over  his  supper.  There  were  few  besides  himself  in 
the  room  —  a  spacious  apartment  with  walls  of  unadorned 
stone,  a  flagged  floor,  and  great  doors  opening  upon  the 
court.  In  the  rear  Pedro  had  his  fire  on  the  pavement,  the 
smoke  escaping  through  a  hole  in  the  roof,  which,  like  all 
thus  far  seen,  was  of  thatch.  Rough  tables  and  benches 
had  been  thrown  together  by  the  soldiers,  always  willing 
to  do  Pedro  a  service,  and  in  the  corner  sat  two  troopers 
and  three  or  four  of  the  infantry.  They  had  been  convers 
ing  over  their  chicha,  with  heads  together,  and  evidently 
occupied  with  a  subject  of  interest.  After  De  Soto  went 
Cristoval  noted  casually  that  they  were  referring  to  him 
and  glancing  in  his  direction.  Finally  Moreno,  one  of  the 


32  THE    CRIMSON    CONQUEST 

troopers,  caught  his  eye,  and  beckoned  him  to  join  them. 
He  sauntered  over. 

"  Sit,  companero,  and  have  a  cup  with  us,"  said  the 
trooper,  pouring  for  him.  "  We  would  have  thine  opinion." 

"  My  opinion !  "  said  Cristoval,  in  slight  surprise. 
"  In  what  connection?  " 

"  Regarding  this,"  replied  Moreno.  "  Thou  hast  sol 
diered  enough  to  think  with  a  cool  head  —  to  estimate 
chances  for  and  against  in  a  campaign.  Now,  what  are 
thy  views  here?  Thou  knowest  our  strength,  —  some 
three-score  horse,  well  equipped;  a  hundred  foot,  miser 
ably  equipped;  two  pieces  of  artillery,  three  arquebuses, 
a  handful  of  arbalests.  What  force  hath  this  Senor 
Inca  whom  we  seek?  God  knoweth!  We  have  heard, 
ten  thousand  warriors;  again,  fifty  thousand;  again, 
one  hundred  thousand.  Por  cierto,  he  may  have  at  the 
beck  of  his  finger  every  man  and  boy  in  his  kingdom,  not 
to  say  the  women!  Now,  what  will  the  Inca  do  with  the 
Army  of  the  Conquest  some  morning  after  breakfast? 
He  will  wipe  it  out!  He  will  eat  it  up!  We  shall  dance 
one  merry  fandango  to  his  piping,  and  —  pouf! — Adios, 
la.  Conquista  I " 

"  And  copper-colored  dames  will  rock  their  copper- 
colored  brats  in  Spanish  bucklers,"  added  an  infantryman 
named  Juarez. 

"  And  make  soup  in  Spanish  morions,"  growled  an 
other. 

"  Hast  thought  of  these  things?  "  asked  Moreno. 

"  Aye,  I  have  thought  of  them,"  replied  Cristoval, 
"  and  I  confess  your  prophecy  seemeth  not  unlikely ; 
but  —  " 

"  But  the  worst  of  the  matter  is  that  the  farther  we 
go  the  smaller  our  chance  of  plunder,"  continued  Moreno. 
*'  At  Coaque  every  varlet  of  the  natives  wore  his  gold  and 
silver.  They  shed  it  at  a  poke  of  the  finger  in  the  ribs. 


NIPPING    A    CONSPIRACY  33 

Hereabouts  the  people  are  as  innocent  of  precious  metal 
as  a  flock  of  sheep." 

"  At  Coaque,  moreover,"  said  Juarez,  "  we  were  not 
far  from  Quito,  and  if  there  was  aught  in  the  rumors  con 
cerning  that  city,  the  looting  of  it  would  load  us  all  with 
what  we  seek.  At  any  rate,  if  the  Inca  with  his  army 
lieth  beyond  these  accursed  mountains,  he  is  not  at  Quito. 
We  might  have  sacked  the  city  and  been  away  ere  this, 
and  getting  the  worth  of  our  gold  in  pleasure  at  Panama." 

Cristoval  quietly  sipped  his  chicha.  "  Well,"  said  he  at 
length,  "  what  would  you,  Senores?  " 

"  In  brief,  this,"  responded  Moreno,  emphatically. 
"  Give  over  this  harebrained  purpose  of  bearding  the  lion 
and  being  made  meat  for  his  whelps,  and  go  back  where 
we  found  gold  in  plenty." 

"  But  the  general  hath  planned  otherwise,"  remarked 
Cristoval,  revolving  his  cup.  "  Dost  think  he  is  a  man  to 
alter  at  our  discontent?  I  think  not." 

"  Most  certainly  he  will  not  alter  —  so  long  as  he  hath 
followers,"  replied  Moreno.  "  But  if  we  refuse  to  follow?  " 

Cristoval  eyed  him  for  a  second  before  answering. 
"  But  we  have  given  oath  to  follow,  Moreno." 

"  A  witch's  blessing  upon  our  oaths ! "  exclaimed 
Juarez,  hotly.  "  Have  we  given  oath  to  jump  into  fire 
after  this  loco  ?  I,  for  one,  set  value  on  my  hide.  Let  him 
lead  with  his  senses  about  him,  and  we  will  go!  Other 
wise,  by  —  " 

"  Softly,  softly,  amigo  mio  I "  interrupted  Moreno,  un 
willing  that  the  disaffection  should  be  too  outspoken  until 
Cristoval  was  more  thoroughly  sounded.  "  As  thou  sayest, 
we  will  go  with  him,  Juarez,  but,"  he  turned  again  to  Cris 
toval,  "  we  are  losing  time  and  golden  opportunity.  If  we 
but  drop  this  insane  purpose  of  conquest,  a  month's  cam 
paigning,  rightly  directed,  will  make  us  all  rich  men  — 
thee  as  rich  as  the  rest,  Peralta." 

3 


34 

Cristoval  pushed  away  his  cup.  "  Waste  not  thy 
breath,  Moreno.  If  you  men  are  discontented,  quit  the  ex 
pedition.  Return  to  San  Miguel  without  spreading  your 
dissatisfaction.  It  were  better." 

Moreno  bit  his  lip.  "  Art  thou,  then,  as  mad  as  Pi- 
zarro?  Canst  not  see  that  every  league  we  march  toward 
the  Inca  doubleth  our  peril?  Dost  not  see  this  seeming 
friendliness  on  the  part  of  these  heathens  is  only  to  lure 
us  farther  into  the  trap?  And  what  have  we  gained  thus 
far?  Not  a  mara-vedi  I  " 

"  Enough,  Moreno!  "  exclaimed  Cristoval,  with  impa 
tience.  "  I  see  the  danger,  seguramente  !  But  better  the 
danger  than  perfidy." 

The  last  word  was  unwelcome.  A  foot-soldier  swore, 
and  a  murmur  rose  from  the  group. 

"  Peace ! "  commanded  Moreno,  glancing  at  his  fel 
lows  with  darkened  face.  "  Thou  hadst  best  consider, 
Peralta.  Listen,"  he  lowered  his  voice  and  leaned  over 
the  table.  "  As  a  matter  of  truth,  there  is  dissatisfac 
tion  among  the  men  at  rushing  blindly  against  the 
Inca's  unknown  strength.  They  would  have  a  more 
prudent  leader,  Cristoval,  and  —  several  have  spoken  of 
thee." 

Cristoval  blurted  a  sudden  oath  and  pushed  back  from 
the  table,  glaring  from  one  to  another  with  kindling  eyes. 
"  What !  Hath  it  gone  so  far?  "  he  demanded.  "  Have  ye 
settled  the  details  of  your  treason?  Furies  and  devils! 
And  ye  would  have  me  one  with  your  cursed  scheme  of 
mutiny  ?  A  more  prudent  leader,  forsooth !  By  the  saints, 
ye  should  have  a  swineherd!  Ah!  Have  ye  smelled  an 
enemy,  that  ye  've  so  suddenly  lost  your  bowels  for  going 
farther?  Then  go  back!  —  sneak  back  with  your  tails  be 
tween  your  craven  legs !  " 

Moreno  sprang  to  his  feet.  The  others  rose  with  him, 
and  a  growl  went  up  as  they  turned  upon  Peralta,  several 


NIPPING    A    CONSPIRACY  35 

with  swords  half  drawn.  He  remained  seated,  contemptu 
ously  ignoring  the  menace,  and  continued :  — 

"  Thou  hast  asked  mine  opinion,  Moreno,  and,  by 
Saint  Michael,  thou  shalt  have  it  to  sleep  over !  —  and 
these  pig-driver's  dogs  of  thine  shall  have  it  as  well ! " 

However,  they  did  not  have  it.  His  words  were  not 
uttered  before  a  confused  gleam  and  the  sinister  ring  of 
steel  went  round  the  table,  as  every  weapon  was  bared.  In 
a  flash  Cristoval  was  on  his  feet,  sword  in  hand.  Moreno 
and  Juarez  vaulted  over  the  table.  The  others  came  round 
its  end,  pell-mell,  stumbling  over  one  another  in  blood 
thirsty  eagerness.  The  soldier  nearest  was  too  close  to 
use  his  blade,  and  before  he  could  step  back  Cristoval 
felled  him  with  the  heavy  hilt  of  his  own;  but  felt  the 
steel  of  the  man  behind  as  it  grazed  his  side.  He  sprang 
back  of  the  overturned  bench  and  placed  himself  in  the 
angle  of  the  wall,  his  right  partly  protected  by  another 
table.  They  were  upon  him  in  the  instant,  but  the  con 
fusion  of  their  combined  attack  was  in  his  favor.  There 
was  a  lightning  play  of  steel  about  him,  but  each  of  the 
assailants  impeded  the  others.  Aided  in  defence  by  a 
poniard  in  his  left  hand,  Cristoval  warded  cut  and  thrust, 
and  after  a  short  moment  of  rapid  clash  and  glitter  his 
opponents  fell  back,  one  with  a  cheek  laid  open,  another 
coughing  from  a  thrust  in  the  chest. 

"  Damn  your  zeal,  learn  a  lesson  of  caution !  "  muttered 
Cristoval,  and  they  were  upon  him  again.  This  time  the 
assault  was  circumspect.  Moreno,  by  far  the  most  for 
midable,  had  been  hampered  in  the  first  attack  by  the 
crowding,  but  now  he  assured  himself  of  ample  room. 
Cristoval  found  himself  hard  pressed,  and  thrice  he  felt 
the  burning  of  their  points. 

Meanwhile  Pedro,  who  had  gone  out  before  the 
conflict  began,  re  entered  and  stood  for  a  moment  trans 
fixed.  The  confusion  was  so  great  that  he  was  unable  to 


36  THE    CRIMSON    CONQUEST 

distinguish  the  sides  opposed;  but  when  he  saw  the  dan 
ger  of  Cristoval  he  broke  into  a  stream  of  oaths,  dancing 
about,  frantic  at  his  own  unarmed  helplessness.  His  boy 
stood  petrified,  a  fork  in  hand,  gazing  at  the  battle.  Pedro 
sprang  at  him, 

"Fetch  Pizarro!"  he  shouted.  "Call  the  guard! 
Quick !  Jump,  thou  imp,  or  I  '11  spit  thee !  " 

The  boy  dashed  out,  and  Pedro  jerked  a  kettle  of  boil 
ing  soup  from  the  fire,  seized  a  ladle,  and  threw  himself 
into  the  fight.  A  flood  of  the  scalding  liquor  descended 
upon  a  pikeman,  and  he  whirled  upon  the  cook  with  a 
howl  of  rage,  to  be  promptly  knocked  down  by  a  blow 
from  the  heavy  ladle.  Shower  after  shower  fell  upon  the 
group  in  front  of  Cristoval,  carrying  scalds,  dismay,  and 
demoralization.  Blinded  and  smarting,  they  fell  away 
from  the  attack,  and  Moreno,  recognizing  the  source  of 
the  hot  counter  assault,  lowered  his  head  and  charged  the 
cook  with  his  rapier.  Pedro's  ammunition  was  exhausted. 
He  hurled  his  kettle,  missed,  fell  backward  over  a  bench, 
and  rolled  under  a  table,  where  Moreno  was  thrusting  at 
him  ineffectually  when  a  heavy  hand  jerked  him  back,  and 
Pizarro  stood  before  him,  black  with  anger.  The  guard 
had  followed  him  in,  and  was  already  making  the  other 
combatants  secure. 

"  How  now?  "  Pizarro  demanded  hoarsely.  "  Fight 
ing  among  ourselves?  Name  of  God!  Is  Spanish  blood 
so  cheap  that  we  can  waste  it  in  brawls  ?  —  Seize  this 
man !  "  he  commanded,  turning  to  the  guard. 

Pedro  had  gathered  himself  together,  and  was  lifting 
Cristoval  out  of  the  corner  where  he  had  fallen.  A  sen 
tinel  was  posted  at  the  door,  and  a  soldier  despatched  to 
summon  the  officers.  De  Soto  and  Jose,  the  old  armorer, 
had  followed  Pizarro,  and  Cristoval's  cuts  were  quickly 
bandaged.  The  officers  hurried  in,  a  summary  court  was 
organized  for  inquiry,  and  the  assailants,  with  the  exception 


NIPPING    A    CONSPIRACY  37 

of  three  who  were  receiving  rough  surgical  care,  were 
lined  up  under  guard,  blistered  and  sullen. 

Pedro's  testimony  was  the  first  to  be  taken,  but  it 
gave  no  enlightenment  regarding  the  origin  of  the  affray, 
and  Juarez  was  examined.  He  was  disposed  to  be  recal 
citrant,  but  Pizarro  ordered  thumbscrews,  and  the  sight 
of  the  instrument  loosed  his  tongue.  Discipline  was  en 
forced  in  those  days  by  effective  means.  Juarez  well  knew 
what  was  coming.  He  glanced  at  the  screws,  at  Pizarro, 
and  shrugged  his  surrender;  then,  with  apparent  candor, 
he  told  of  the  conversation  and  of  the  growing  discontent 
among  the  men.  Pizarro  ordered  the  prisoners  into  con 
finement,  and  they  were  marched  away  by  the  guard,  their 
relief  at  escape  from  the  thumbscrews  marred  by  a  vision 
of  a  courtmartial  and  the  garrote  on  the  morrow. 

Cristoval  was  conveyed  to  his  quarters,  and  Pedro 
immediately  turned  the  management  of  the  cantina  over 
to  Pedrillo,  assuming  the  role  of  nurse  as  a  matter  of 
course. 

About  midnight  he  stepped  outside  the  cavalier's  door 
and  stood  for  a  moment  enjoying  the  freshness  of  the 
night.  The  tambo  was  silent  except  for  the  footfalls  of  the 
sentinel  at  the  gate,  a  murmur  of  voices  from  the  guard 
room,  where  the  affair  was  being  discussed,  and  an  occa 
sional  sound  from  the  distant  stables.  A  light  shone 
through  Pizarro's  door,  and  as  Pedro  stood  a  shadow 
passed  and  repassed  within.  An  hour  before  dawn  he 
again  stepped  into  the  square.  The  light  still  burned,  and 
still  the  shadow  came  and  went.  Clearly  Pizarro  was 
having  a  bad  night.  Pedro  shook  his  head  and  muttered 
an  anathema  upon  all  traitors. 

In  fact,  Pizarro  was  having  a  bad  night.  On  his  stone 
table,  weighted  down  by  one  of  his  steel  gauntlets,  lay  the 
record  of  the  summary  court,  left  there  by  his  secretary 
hours  before.  He  could  not  read  it,  for  he  was  unlettered ; 


38  THE   CRIMSON    CONQUEST 

but  he  knew  every  word  of  its  content.  It  told  of  sedition. 
He  could  only  guess  how  far  disaffection  had  spread,  but 
the  knowledge  that  the  spirit  was  abroad  had  come  with 
stunning  effect.  Hour  after  hour  he  paced  the  room,  his 
footfall  a  dismal  accompaniment  to  dismal  reflections. 
After  years  he  had  almost  reached  his  goal  with  an  army 
at  his  back,  only  to  feel  the  earth  crumbling  beneath  him, 
undermined  by  cowardice  and  treachery.  As  he  walked, 
his  thin  lips  moved  as  if  in  prayer.  But  Pizarro  was  not 
praying.  He  was  heaping  black  curses  upon  his  riffraff 
soldiery. 

Jose  relieved  Pedro  at  daybreak,  and  an  hour  after 
reveille  the  cook  returned  with  breakfast  for  the  wounded 
man.  His  jovial  countenance  was  perfectly  blank. 

"  Well,  what  news?  "  asked  Jose.  "  Do  the  conspira 
tors  get  the  rack  or  the  garrote?  " 

Pedro  put  down  his  burden  with  deliberation. 
"  Thou  'rt  a  fool  at  guessing,  Jose,  and  I  another.  Neither 
rack,  nor  yet  garrote!  Let  me  tell  thee.  After  roll-call 
and  reports  the  general  stepped  forward.  He  looked  along 
the  line,  and  the  line  stopped  breathing.  Torres,  of  the 
infantry,  let  fall  his  pike.  Then  Pizarro  began  to  speak 

—  as  quietly  as  I  am  speaking  now.    He  said  it  had  come 
to  his  attention,  —  had  come  to  his  attention,  Jose !  —  that 
there  are  certain  ones  among  us  who  have  lost  enthusiasm 

—  not  that  they  are  damned  traitors,  Jose,  but  have  lost 
enthusiasm !    He  would  say  to  these  that  the  hour  is  crit 
ical;   that  it  is  big  with  events  which  it  will  need  all  our 
courage  to  meet  bravely,   as   becometh   Spaniards.     He 
would  have  no  man  go  forward  who  goeth  not  with  a 
whole  heart,  and  to  such  as  had  liefer  return  the  road  is 
open.    With  those  who  choose  to  follow  him,  few  or  many, 
it  is  his  purpose  to  pursue  the  adventure  to  its  end." 

Jose  resumed  tearing  bandages.  "Jesacristo!  "  was  his 
only  comment. 


NIPPING   A    CONSPIRACY  39 

"  Stew  me  to  rags ! "  observed  Pedro  with  slow  em 
phasis.  After  a  pause  he  continued,  "  Didst  ever  see  such 
a  man,  Jose?  He  staked  much  on  a  single  throw.  On  my 
oath,  I  should  not  have  been  surprised  to  see  half  the  army 
take  the  route  to  San  Miguel!  Hah!  He  would  have  no 
coacted,  weak-kneed  service,  quoth  he;  but  to  my  mind 
he  chose  a  perilous  way  of  stiffening  it  and  weeding  out 
discontent.  The  rack  were  better.  However,  every  cook 
hath  his  own  way  of  cooking." 

Before  noon  nine  malcontents  slunk  out  of  the  tambo 
and  started  back  to  San  MigueL  Three  wore  bandages. 

In  a  few  days  the  march  was  resumed.  Little  fever 
resulted  from  Cristoval's  wounds,  and  Jose  pronounced 
him  in  condition  to  go  forward,  borne  in  a  litter. 


CHAPTER   IV 
The  Inca's  Encampment 

SIX  weeks  later  the  Army  of  the  Conquest  was 
descending  the  eastern  slope  of  the  Maritime 
Cordillera  into  the  interior  valley  of  Caxamalca. 
Here,  Pizarro  learned,  the  Inca  Atahualpa  lay 
with  fifty  thousand  warriors. 

The  march  over  the  mountains  had  been  one  of  toil 
and  hardship,  but  the  few  Peruvians  encountered  had  dis 
played  nothing  but  hospitality.  Two  embassies  from  the 
Inca  had  met  the  invaders,  bearing  presents  and  assurances 
of  welcome.  The  messages  were  translated  by  a  young 
native,  called  by  the  soldiers  Felipillo,  who  had  been 
picked  up  on  a  former  expedition,  taught  the  Spanish  lan 
guage,  many  Spanish  vices,  and  retained  as  interpreter. 
Through  him  the  commander  sent  courteous  replies,  and, 
while  neglecting  no  precaution,  marched  with  a  sense  of 
security  always. 

To  Cristoval,  stretched  helpless  on  his  rude  litter,  the 
first  few  days  had  been  torture.  Later,  however,  a  halt 
was  made  at  a  mountain  village  whose  friendly  curaca,  or 
governor,  proffered  the  use  of  his  sedan  with  native  bearers. 
They  were  hardy,  sure-footed  mountaineers,  and  thereafter 
Cristoval  swung  along  with  little  discomfort.  Halts  were 
frequent,  and  some  were  protracted,  for  Pizarro  hoped  for 
reinforcements  from  San  Miguel  if  ships  should  come  from 
Panama,  whither  his  partner,  Almagro,  had  sailed  in  quest 
of  fresh  recruits.  He  tarried  in  vain,  but  the  halts  were 


THE   INCA'S    ENCAMPMENT  41 

favorable  to  Cristoval.  His  rugged  health,  aided  by  the 
bracing  mountain  air  and  the  vigilant  care  of  Pedro, 
hastened  his  recovery;  and  by  the  end  of  October  his 
wounds  were  healed,  though  he  had  yet  to  regain  his 
strength.  He  bore  his  inactivity  with  what  patience  there 
was  in  him,  but  with  no  prevision  of  the  gratitude  he 
should  one  day  feel  for  those  very  wounds. 

The  Fifteenth  of  November  saw  the  last  day's  march 
in  the  mountains.  The  column  had  for  hours  trailed  down 
a  rocky  gorge,  which  at  last  opened  upon  a  full  panorama 
of  the  valley  of  Caxamalca.  It  stretched  out  far  below,  a 
fertile  and  verdant  plain,  checkered  with  fields,  damas 
keened  with  the  silver  of  rivulets  and  canals  for  irrigation, 
and  traversed  throughout  its  length  by  a  fair  river.  Near 
its  centre,  gleaming  in  its  setting  of  green,  lay  the  town 
of  Caxamalca,  surrounded  by  orchards  and  gardens,  and 
groves  of  willows,  quinuars,  and  mimosas,  in  whose  shelter 
could  be  descried  the  tinted  walls  of  the  cottages  and  villas 
of  the  suburbs. 

Involuntarily,  when  the  scene  burst  upon  him,  Pizarro 
reined  his  horse.  His  trumpeter  sounded  a  halt,  and  De 
Soto,  whose  troop  was  in  advance,  rode  up  beside  him, 
joined  straightway  by  the  officers  of  the  staff.  They  sur 
veyed  the  valley  with  amazement.  Pizarro  was  the  first 
to  speak. 

"Mara-villosol"  he  exclaimed.  "Ha!  Senores,  what 
say  you  to  it?  Have  your  eyes  ever  beheld  a  fairer  vale? 
Did  I  not  know  better,  I  could  think  myself  in  Andalusia 
—  but,  Santa  Madrel  —  look  beyond  the  river  —  at  those 
hills!" 

"  Tents,  as  I  live !  "  ejaculated  De  Soto,  "  and  by  the 
ten  thousand." 

"  By  the  soul  of  me !  "  growled  Hernando  Pizarro,  the 
eldest  of  the  commander's  four  brothers.  "  Methinks,  Fran 
cisco,  thy  dreams  of  conquest  have  overreached.  Ho! 


42  THE    CRIMSON    CONQUEST 

good  Father,"  he  continued,  turning  with  a  grin  to  Val- 
verde,  the  square-jawed  chaplain  of  the  expedition,  "  I  '11 
presently  call  upon  thee  for  a  shrift.  Meanwhile,  do  thou 
pray  a  little." 

"Aye!"  muttered  Candia,  the  Greek  captain  of  artil 
lery,  "  pray  a  little,  and  have  the  other  frocks  at  it  with 
thee.  We  '11  need  all  your  supplications,  and,"  —  to  him 
self,  —  "  the  devil's  aid  besides." 

The  priest  did  not  reply  even  with  a  glance.  The  com 
mander  had  ridden  a  few  paces  in  advance  and  was  looking 
over  the  vast  encampment  below  with  as  little  emotion  in 
his  thin,  sallow  face  as  if  the  Inca's  army  were  a  flock  of 
goats. 

When  the  leading  files  of  the  column  first  caught  sight 
of  the  distant  encampment  a  shout  arose  and  was  quickly 
carried  to  the  rear :  "El  Inca  I  El  Inca  I  El  ejertito  del  Inca  I ' ' 
and  pikes  and  halberds  were  brandished  with  fierce  en 
thusiasm.  But  as  realization  of  the  magnitude  of  the  host 
came  over  them  the  demonstration  gave  place  to  ominous 
silence,  and  they  gazed  with  something  akin  to  consterna 
tion.  Pizarro  noticed  the  change,  and  looked  back  over 
the  ranks  with  a  barely  perceptible  curl  of  his  lip.  "  For 
ward  ! "  he  said  to  the  trumpeter,  and  moved  down  the 
trail 

The  command  wound  its  descent  through  the  foot 
hills,  and  at  midday  halted  again.  Pennons  were  affixed 
to  lances,  plumes  to  helmets,  and  the  banners  were  uncov 
ered  and  spread  to  the  breeze.  Here  Cristoval  demanded 
his  horse,  and,  when  Pedro  protested,  declared  with  em 
phasis  that  he  was  well,  and  if  not  well,  then  well  enough ; 
that  in  any  event  he  would  not  go  into  the  presence  of  an 
enemy  borne  in  a  litter,  like  a  woman.  So  he  mounted, 
though  without  his  armor.  The  formation  most  favorable 
for  action  in  case  of  attack  was  now  adopted.  The  infantry 
and  artillery  were  placed  in  the  middle  of  the  column  with 


THE    INCA'S    ENCAMPMENT  43 

cavalry  in  front  and  rear ;  and,  with  a  small  advance  guard, 
the  army  debouched  upon  the  plain. 

No  hostility  met  the  Spaniards.  As  on  the  coast,  they 
came  upon  knots  of  the  natives  gathered  at  the  roadside, 
and  these  gazed  upon  the  glittering,  bannered  pageant  as 
if  stupefied.  When  the  outskirts  of  the  town  were  reached 
the  afternoon  was  late,  and  rain,  for  some  time  threaten 
ing,  set  in  with  dreary  steadiness.  To  their  surprise  they 
found  here  no  sign  of  life.  The  last  group  of  Indies  had 
long  been  passed,  and  as  the  troops  plashed  along  the 
muddy  highway  through  the  suburbs  they  were  greeted 
only  by  silence  and  desertion.  Cots  and  villas  were  numer 
ous,  but  all  closed  and  tenantless.  They  marched  through 
a  desolation  emphasized  by  every  mark  of  recent  habita 
tion.  The  people  had  fled  at  their  coming  as  from  a 
pestilence. 

At  length  they  were  in  the  town.  Here,  too,  vacancy 
and  silent  thoroughfares,  awakened  now  to  unwonted 
echoes  by  the  ring  of  horses'  hoofs  and  the  rumble  of  the 
guns  on  the  pavements.  They  entered  through  one  of  the 
poorer  quarters,  where  the  dwellings  were  of  bricks  of 
sun-dried  clay,  heavily  thatched  with  straw,  all  of  a  single 
story,  substantial,  and  severely  plain.  Toward  the  middle 
of  the  town  they  passed  larger  buildings  of  heavy  masonry, 
whose  blank  walls,  unbroken  by  window  or  decoration, 
wore  a  dull  gloom  and  mystery  which,  indeed,  pervaded  the 
very  air.  The  gray  streets,  depressingly  regular  and  paved 
throughout,  were  unrelieved  by  a  single  tree  or  shrub  or 
patch  of  sward.  Over  all  a  sombreness  profound!;  no  sign 
either  of  welcome  or  hostility;  only  the  apathy  of  aban 
donment  everywhere. 

The  thoroughfare  opened  into  a  great  plaza.  Pizarro 
rode  to  the  centre  to  direct  the  deployment  of  the  column : 
on  the  right,  cavalry ;  in  the  centre,  artillery  and  foot ;  on 
the  left,  cavalry  again;  and  in  the  rear,  the  pack  train. 


44  THE    CRIMSON    CONQUEST 

The  line  formed  in  silence  —  a  spiritless,  sullen  line,  rain- 
soaked,  mud-splashed,  with  drooping  plumes  and  dripping 
banners;  and  oppressed  withal  by  yonder  vast  encamp 
ment  and  the  sense  of  being  in  the  toils.  The  march  was 
ended. 

Patrols  were  detailed,  scouring  the  town  and  its  out 
skirts  to  make  sure  the  desertedness  was  not  merely  appar 
ent.  Pizarro  assembled  his  officers.  He  began  with  his 
customary  terseness :  —  «**... 

"  Senores,  I  purpose  sending  an  embassy  to  the 
Inca  at  once.  We  must  know  better  than  we  can  judge 
from  the  cold  reception  he  hath  seen  fit  to  accord  to 
us  how  he  regardeth  our  coming.  We  must  know 
to-night.  To-morrow  we  will  govern  our  actions  ac 
cordingly.  So  do  thou  go,  Soto,  and  tell  him  we  have 
come.  Say  that  we  have  sailed  across  the  seas  from  a 
great  prince,  —  God  save  him !  —  to  offer  service  and  im 
part  to  him  and  his  people  the  True  Faith.  Put  it  in  a 
courtly  way,  but  with  no  servility  —  thou  knowest  how 

—  and  say  that  we  pray  he  will  honor  us  with  a  visit 
to-morrow. 

"  Remember  that  to  these  people  we  are  superior 
beings,  almost  more  than  mortal.  Carry  thyself  as  a 
superior  even  to  this  emperor,  and  he  '11  not  fail  to  credit 
thy  assumption.  Did  he  know  our  estate,  do  not  doubt 
that  he  would  hotly  resent  our  pretension.  In  a  word,  by 
every  look,  gesture,  and  tone  of  thy  voice  strive  to  impress 
him.  Display  thy  horsemanship,  if  there  be  opportunity, 

—  he  hath  never  seen  a  horse,  —  and  hold  thy  chin  well  in 
the  air.     'Tis  important,   Soto!     Now  go,   and  Dominus 
"vobiscum.    Take  Felipillo  and  a  dozen  lances,  —  more  if 
thou  wilt." 

The  captain  saluted,  and,  turning  his  horse,  cantered 
to  his  troop  to  select  a  following  for  the  perilous  mission. 
In  a  few  minutes,  with  fifteen  chosen  cavaliers,  he  was 


THE   INCA'S    ENCAMPMENT  45 

clattering  down  the  street.  Pizarro  looked  after  him,  and 
said,  turning  to  his  brother: 

"  Hernando,  take  twenty  more  and  go  with  him.  He 
hath  too  few." 

The  second  detachment  followed  at  a  gallop. 

Pizarro  briefly  surveyed  the  place.  The  plaza  was 
enclosed  on  three  sides  by  low  stone  buildings,  thatched 
like  the  others,  with  great  doors  opening  upon  the  square. 
At  the  western  end,  toward  the  Inca's  encampment,  rose 
a  redoubt  or  citadel,  overlooking  the  country  and  com 
manding  the  plaza,  from  which  it  was  entered  by  a  flight 
of  steps.  Hither  Pizarro  rode,  dismounted,  and  ascended 
to  the  terre-plein,  followed  by  his  officers.  Here  he  could 
view  the  Inca's  position  with  the  intermediate  plain  and 
its  river.  The  road  followed  by  De  Soto  led  over  a  cause 
way  extending  from  the  town  to  the  bank  of  the  stream, 
and  from  time  to  time  the  watchers  caught  glimpses  of  the 
cavalcade,  until  it  was  finally  lost  to  sight. 

It  was  twilight  when  the  detachment  returned,  but 
the  dusk  could  not  conceal  its  gloom.  The  result  of  the 
mission  had  not  been  cheering.  De  Soto  and  Hernando 
Pizarro  dismissed  their  detail,  and  hastened  to  the 
commander  to  report  the  interview. 

Cristoval  was  in  his  quarters  in  one  of  the  large  build 
ings  on  the  square,  seated  with  Jose  over  a  flask  of  chicha 
when,  an  hour  later,  Pedro  entered. 

"  Good  evening,  Senores,"  said  he,  smiling  benignly. 
"  My  blessing  —  a  cook's  blessing.  Ah,  Cristoval,  thou  'rt 
the  first  cheerful-looking  man  I  've  seen  this  night!  'T  is 
most  commendable.  Put  a  good  face  on  't,  and  discoun 
tenance  the  devil.  Hilantm  semper  fac  te  et  lubentem  I  — 
which  meaneth,  gentlemen,  be  cheerful  and  good-humored 
always  —  a  good  maxim  just  now,  is  it  not?  " 

"  Excellent !  "  replied  Cristoval.  "  Sit  and  have  a  cup 
with  us,  Pedro.  These  be  serious  times." 


46  THE    CRIMSON    CONQUEST 

"  True !  "  said  the  portly  cook,  squeezing  himself  be 
tween  the  bench  and  the  table  with  difficulty.  "  And  there 
is  something  like  demoralization  abroad  among  the  men. 
So  many  are  clamoring  to  Father  Valverde  to  be  shriven 
that  the  good  priest  is  beside  himself.  Terror  incidit  exerci- 
tuiy  bonum  fatit  militem — fear  striketh  the  army  and  maketh 
the  soldier  good.  They  have  just  consecrated  the  building 
next  the  infantry  quarters  for  a  chapel — and  'tis  well 
placed,  I  '11  swear,  for  not  a  pikeman  but  is  a  thief !  —  and 
there  will  be  services  all  night.  Pizarro  goeth  about 
among  the  men  like  their  own  father,  blowing  upon  the 
embers  of  their  extinguished  courage.  What  a  man !  He 
knoweth  neither  fear  nor  doubt,  and  he  can  talk  both  out 
of  any  man  who  weareth  ears.  Cara  I  To-morrow  might  be 
a  fiesta  so  far  as  it  fasheth  him.  Just  now  I  met  him  on 
the  square.  'Hola,  Pedro  ! '  quoth  he,  '  hast  heard?  This 
pagan  king  cometh  to-morrow  for  a  visit,  and  I  would  give 
him  a  taste  of  Christian  cooking.  Canst  scrape  up  a  meal?  ' 
What  d'ye  think  of  that,  Senores? —  with  the  army  in  a 
cold  sweat  from  looking  at  the  Inca's  camp  and  counting 
his  tents ! " 

Cristoval  smote  the  table  with  his  fist.  "  By  the  fight 
ing  Saint  Michael,  he  hath  not  his  peer  in  armor !  " 

"  No!  "  Pedro  concurred  with  emphasis.  "  Thou  sayst 
right,  Cristoval.  But  the  poor  veedor I  Have  ye  seen  him? 
He  hath  been  waddling  about  the  square,  swollen  with 
consternation,  now  climbing  to  the  fortress  to  stare  at  the 
campfires  on  the  hills,  now  scuttling  down  again  to  tell 
how  many  there  are ;  one  minute  praying,  the  next  swear 
ing,  and  the  next  bellowing  like  a  calf  that  he  is  a  civilian, 
no  fighting  man,  and  is  misplaced.  And  misplaced  he  is, 
I  '11  take  my  oath !  Pizarro  locked  him  up  at  last,  to  pre 
vent  the  panic  he  was  beginning  to  spread.  Gods,  gentle 
men  !  were  I  the  commander  I  'd  melt  him  and  make  him 
into  tallow  dips." 


THE   INCA'S    ENCAMPMENT  47 

A  bugle  sounded  in  the  square,  and  Cristoval  ex 
claimed,  rising,  "  Officers'  call !  The  general  hath  some 
thing  to  say." 

Pizarro  had  something  of  moment  to  say,  and  was  in 
council  with  his  officers  through  the  night. 


CHAPTER  V 
The  Monarch  and  the  Princess  Rava 

THE  entry  of  the  Spaniards  into  Caxamalca  had 
not  been  spirited,  nor  jubilant.     But  the  rain, 
which  had  conspired  with  other  depressing  cir 
cumstances  to  dishearten  them,  ceased  during  the 
night,  and  the  sixteenth  of  November  broke  with  a  cloud 
less  sky.    Its  first  light  was  greeted  in  the  Peruvian  camp 
by  the  clamor  of  trumpets,  the  wailing  of  conches  and 
horns,  and  the  thunder  of  drums  —  a  warlike  and  mighty 
dissonance  which  struck  faintly  upon  the  listening  ears  of 
the  invaders  in  the  town,  and  set  many  a  good  Christian 
making  the  sign  of  the  cross  and  murmuring  his  prayers. 
The  army  of  the  Inca  was  portentously  astir. 

The  monarch  was  quartered  in  a  villa  at  the  edge 
of  the  eastern  foothills.  Not  far  away,  their  position 
marked  by  columns  of  rising  steam,  were  the  hot  mineral 
springs  which  had  made  the  place  a  resort  of  the  Incas  for 
generations. 

The  villa  itself  differed  little  in  its  severe  simplicity 
from  other  structures  of  the  country.  It  was  massively 
built  of  stone,  with  the  usual  high-pitched  covering  of 
thatch  —  a  form  of  roof  far  from  primitive  in  this  instance, 
for  the  thatches  of  Peru  were  artfully  and  durably  con 
structed,  often  highly  ornate  in  the  weaving  and  gilding  of 
their  straw.  The  building  was  without  exterior  decoration 
except  for  the  sculptured  geometrical  design  bordering  the 
entrance.  This  doorway,  like  the  small  windows  set  high 


THE   MONARCH    AND    PRINCESS    RAVA    49 

up  under  the  eaves,  and  the  numerous  niches  with  growing 
plants,  which  served  to  modify  the  severity  and  blankness 
of  the  walls,  narrowed  from  threshold  to  lintel  as  in  the 
architecture  of  ancient  Egypt.  The  walls,  too,  broad  at 
the  base  and  sloping  inward  as  they  narrowed  to  the  top, 
further  suggested  the  comparison. 

On  either  side  of  the  villa  entrance  stood  sentinels  in 
the  blue  of  the  Incarial  Guard,  in  heavily  pourpointed  tunics 
or  gambesons,  similar  to  those  worn  by  the  European  men- 
at-arms  of  the  fourteenth  century.  Each  wore  a  casque  of 
burnished  silver,  with  heavy  cheek-plates  descending  to 
the  point  of  the  jaw,  and  surmounted  by  the  figure  of  a 
crouching  panther,  the  device  of  their  corps.  Above  the 
head-piece  rose  a  high  crescent-shaped  crest,  not  unlike 
that  on  the  helm  of  the  warrior  of  ancient  Greece.  Their 
arms  were  bare  to  the  shoulder,  but  encircled  by  heavy 
bands  of  silver  above  the  elbow  and  at  the  wrist.  Their 
legs  were  protected  only  by  the  blue  and  silver  lacings  of 
their  sandals,  which  entwined  them  to  the  knees.  They 
were  armed  with  javelins,  small  round  shields  of  polished 
brass,  and  from  their  broad,  heavily  plated  belts  hung  small 
battle-axes  and  short  swords  of  bronze,  an  alloy  which  the 
Peruvians  tempered  almost  to  the  hardness  of  steel. 

At  an  early  hour  the  throne-room  was  filled  with 
officers  and  nobles  costumed  as  brilliantly  as  the  court  of 
an  Oriental  potentate.  The  majority  were  Quitoans,  but 
among  them  were  a  small  number  of  the  nobles  of  Cuzco, 
recent  adherents  of  Huascar,  who  had  tendered  their  alle 
giance  to  the  successful  Atahualpa,  or  whose  presence  at 
the  court  the  latter  had  commanded.  All  were  in  the  sleeve 
less  outer  garment  of  the  country,  belted  at  the  waist,  with 
skirts  falling  to  the  knees,  and  not  unlike  the  tunica,  of  the 
Roman.  The  stuff  was  of  wool,  woven  in  fanciful  and  often 
elegant  patterns,  and  not  infrequently  decorated  with  elab 
orate  passementerie,  or  with  braid  or  scale-work  of  gold 

4 


So  THE    CRIMSON    CONQUEST 

and  silver.  Every  stalwart  form  glittered  with  jewelled 
armlets,  bracelets,  necklaces,  and  girdles  in  the  precious 
metals,  while  the  nobles  of  Cuzco  wore,  as  a  distinguish 
ing  mark  of  their  order,  heavy  discs  of  gold  let  into  the 
lobes  of  their  ears. 

The  apartment  in  which  they  awaited  the  coming  of 
the  monarch  was  no  less  splendid  than  the  assemblage,  and 
showed  the  same  lavish  use  of  gold  and  silver,  which  in  the 
empire  of  the  Incas  had  no  value  except  for  ornamentation. 
It  was  a  lofty  chamber  with  walls  of  polished  porphyry, 
divided  by  pilasters  into  panels  bordered  with  vines  in 
precious  metal,  perfect  in  leaf  and  stem.  Suspended  from 
silver  brackets  wrought  in  forms  of  serpents,  lizards,  and 
fanciful  monsters,  were  lamps  burning  perfumed  oil,  filling 
the  room  with  faint  aroma,  and  dispelling  the  obscurity  of 
the  early  morning  with  their  radiance.  The  ceiling,  pan 
elled  by  heavy  rafters,  was  of  rushes,  gilded  and  elabo 
rately  woven  in  squares  and  lozenges.  At  intervals  the 
walls  were  niched  like  those  of  the  exterior,  to  receive  nat 
ural  plants  or  imitations  of  them  in  the  metals. 

In  the  rear  of  the  apartment,  beneath  a  canopy  re 
splendent  with  embroidery  and  featherwork,  was  a  dais  of 
serpentine  on  which  stood  the  Inca's  seat,  a  low  stool  of 
solid  gold,  richly  chased  and  jewelled.  Back  of  this,  against 
the  wall,  was  the  imperial  standard,  on  whose  folds  blazed 
and  sparkled  in  embroidery  and  precious  stones  a  rainbow, 
the  insigne  of  the  Incas. 

The  room  was  nearly  bare  of  furniture,  but  its  marble 
floor  was  softened  by  richly  dyed  rugs  and  the  skins  of  ani 
mals.  In  a  word,  in  this  country  villa  of  the  ruler  of  an 
empire  of  the  farthest  West  was  a  wealth  of  decoration 
that  would  have  dimmed  the  splendor  of  the  palace  of 
a  maharajah. 

Presently,  a  door  in  the  rear  swung  open,  and  a  silence 
fell  as  a  grizzled  veteran  in  the  splendid  uniform  of  a 


THE   MONARCH    AND    PRINCESS    RAVA    51 

general  of  the  Quitoan  troops  entered  and  raised  his  hand. 
He  was  followed  by  two  officers  of  the  Incarial  Guard,  who 
halted  and  took  post  at  each  side  of  the  doorway.  A  breath 
less  moment,  then  came  the  Inca  Atahualpa,  attended  by 
his  personal  staff.  The  nobles  went  upon  their  knees, 
bending  until  their  foreheads  touched  the  floor,  and  so 
remained  until  the  monarch,  moving  with  brisk,  soldierly 
pace,  had  gained  the  dais,  where  he  turned  with  a  brief 
command  that  they  arise. 

Atahualpa  was  then  close  to  his  thirtieth  year.  His 
countenance  was  one  which  would  have  been  striking 
among  men  of  any  race.  He  had  the  warrior-face  of  the 
American  aborigine  —  the  aquiline  nose,  the  high  cheek 
bones  and  firm  jaw  and  mouth,  the  calm  pride  and  dignity 
of  expression  —  but  refined  by  generations  of  Inca  culture. 
It  was  the  face  of  a  fighter,  and  a  slumbering  ferocity  was 
perhaps  lurking  in  the  dark  and  somewhat  bloodshot  eyes ; 
but  it  was  also  an  intellectual  one,  clear-cut  in  line  and 
contour,  and  backed  by  a  well-formed  head,  handsomely 
poised.  His  complexion,  of  the  usual  bronze  of  the  Indian, 
was  yet  not  more  swarthy  than  that  of  many  Spaniards. 
His  black  hair  was  closely  trimmed,  and  on  his  head  was 
the  royal  diadem,  the  llautu,  a  thick  cord  or  band  of  crim 
son,  wound  several  times  around,  with  a  pendant  fringe 
covering  his  forehead  to  his  brows  from  temple  to  temple. 
Set  closely  in  the  llauttt  above  the  fringe,  diverging  as  they 
rose,  were  two  small  white  feathers,  each  with  a  single  spot 
of  black.  These  were  taken  from  the  wings  of  the  cora- 
quenqtte,  a  rare  bird  sacred  to  the  Incas.  He  was  simply  clad 
in  deep  red,  the  royal  color.  His  tunic  was  quite  devoid 
of  decoration,  but  the  cloak  thrown  over  his  shoulders 
glittered  with  embroidery  and  scales  of  gold,  and  besides 
his  heavy  ear-ornaments  he  wore  at  his  throat  a  collar  of 
emeralds  worth  an  emperor's  ransom. 

A  powerful  man,  well  and  serenely  accustomed  to  his 


52  THE   CRIMSON    CONQUEST 

power,  mentally  and  physically  equal  to  its  exercise,  and 
sufficiently  wonted  to  it  not  to  be  self-conscious,  is  truly  a 
fit  object  of  admiration.  There  is  nothing  more  sublime, 
in  its  way,  on  earth :  nothing  more  majestic,  and  only  sug 
gested  by  the  brute  kingliness  of  the  lion.  Atahualpa, 
the  descendant  of  a  long  line  of  absolute  monarchs,  a  line 
believed  by  the  Peruvians  to  have  sprung  from  Inti,  the 
Sun-god  himself,  wore  his  majesty  as  naturally  as  he  wore 
his  cloak  and  with  as  little  thought  of  it. 

On  this  occasion  the  audience  was  short,  and  the  Inca 
did  not  seat  himself.  Having  heard  the  reports  of  his 
generals,  he  directed  that  supplies  be  sent  to  the  Span 
iards  in  Caxamalca,  gave  a  few  orders  concerning  the  dis 
position  of  his  troops  and  the  formation  of  his  escort  for 
the  visit  to  Pizarro  that  afternoon,  and  retired,  while  the 
nobles  went  again  upon  their  knees  until  he  had  quit 
the  apartment.  In  the  court  outside  he  dismissed  his 
staff  and  descended  a  terrace  into  the  garden  in  the  rear 
of  the  palace. 

It  was  an  alluring  place  at  any  hour,  and  to  its 
quiet  seclusion  the  young  monarch  often  resorted  when  he 
wearied  of  councils,  the  affairs  of  government,  and  the  end 
less  formalities  of  the  court.  From  the  rear  of  the  villa  an 
avenue,  bordered  with  flowering  shrubbery  and  spreading 
palms  backed  by  tall  quinuars,  led  to  an  open  lawn  in  the 
middle  of  which  played  a  fountain.  Around  the  margin  of 
the  green,  set  in  shady  niches  in  the  foliage,  were  marble 
benches.  Over  one  of  these  rugs  had  been  thrown,  and 
leaning  sadly  on  its  arm  with  her  cheek  resting  on  her  hand 
sat  a  maiden  of  seventeen.  A  few  paces  away  were  half-a- 
dozen  attendants,  seated  on  the  sward,  arranging  armfuls 
of  flowers.  So  busy  were  they,  and  so  deep  the  maiden's 
reverie,  that  the  Inca's  coming  was  unnoted,  and  he  paused, 
surveying  the  group  and  hesitating  to  interrupt.  At  that 
moment,  slightly  turning  her  head,  the  girl  observed  him; 


THE    MONARCH    AND    PRINCESS    RAVA     53 

with  sudden  pallor  and  a  movement  of  her  hand  to  her 
heart  she  arose. 

She  was  handsome  and  womanly,  and  as  she  stood 
timidly  awaiting  her  monarch's  approach  he  did  not  fail  to 
note  her  beauty  with  brotherly  pride ;  for  she  was  his  half- 
sister,  the  Nusta *  Rava.  Her  dark  eyes,  heavily  veiled  by 
their  lashes,  were  downcast,  and  her  color  came  and  went 
with  every  step  of  his  advance.  Her  cloak,  falling  back  as 
she  arose,  had  left  partly  uncovered  one  dimpled  arm  and 
shoulder,  and  the  low-cut  white  robe,  or  tticlla.  This  gar 
ment,  made  of  the  soft  wool  of  the  vicuna,  was  loosely 
and  gracefully  draped  about  her  form,  caught  in  at  the 
waist  by  a  richly  jewelled  girdle,  and  secured  by  golden 
topus,  or  large,  broad-headed  pins.  A  necklace  of  pearls 
and  the  jewelled  band  of  gold  about  her  head  were  her 
only  other  ornaments,  save  those  necessary  to  keep  in 
place  a  wealth  of  black  tresses  coiled  in  a  form  of  Grecian 
knot. 

As  the  Inca  drew  near  she  would  have  knelt,  but  he 
stayed  her  quickly,  and  taking  her  hand,  reverently  carried 
it  to  his  lips. 

"  May  the  sun  shine  brightly  upon  thee  this  day,  my 
sister,"  said  he.  "  Thou  'rt  abroad  early.  I  thought  to  find 
the  garden  deserted." 

"  I  have  been  walking,  my  lord,"  she  replied,  with  eyes 
still  lowered,  and  drew  almost  imperceptibly  away.  "  I 
was  about  to  return." 

"  Nay :  let  me  walk  with  thee.  Perhaps  I  can  tell  thee 
something  to  lighten  thy  heart.  Come." 

"  Ah,  my  lord,"  she  sighed,  raising  her  eyes  to  his  with 
a  swift  glance,  and  turning  them  away  filled  with  tears. 

"  I  know  —  I  know !  Thou  grievest  for  our  unfortu 
nate  brother  Huascar,"  he  said  kindly.  "  It  was  partly  on 
his  account  that  I  had  thee  come  to  Caxamalca.  I  would 

1  Nusta  =  Princess. 


54  THE    CRIMSON    CONQUEST 

not  have  thee  mourn  needlessly,  nor  think  me  a  monster  in 
holding  him  in  brief  imprisonment.  It  is  against  my  wish, 
believe  me,  and  only  to  prevent  renewal  of  the  late  unhappy 
war." 

"Oh,  most  unhappy,  most  dreadful,  my  lord!  —  and 
between  my  brothers !  "  she  answered  with  a  sob. 

"  Most  dreadful ! "  repeated  Atahualpa,  gravely. 
"  Yet  thou  knowest  how  it  was  forced  upon  me." 

"  Forced  upon  thee,  my  lord?    They  told  me  different." 

"  They  told  thee  falsely !  "  he  exclaimed.  "  Dost  thou 
not  know  how  it  was  brought  about?  —  I  fear  not,  in  its 
truth.  Then  let  us  walk  whilst  I  tell  thee."  He  passed  his 
arm  about  her  fondly,  and  led  her  down  the  avenue. 

"  Thou  knowest,  Rava,"  he  began  after  they  had  taken 
a  few  steps,  "  the  will  of  our  father,  given  at  Cuzco  some 
months  before  his  death,  by  which  the  kingdom  of  Quito 
was  bequeathed  to  me,  and  Cuzco  to  Huascar.  Thou  know 
est  that  for  several  years  we  reigned  in  peace,  each  in  his 
own  domain.  So  it  might  have  continued  had  Huascar 
been  content.  But,  chafing  under  the  loss  of  Quito,  which 
but  for  me  would  have  been  one  of  his  provinces,  he  sent 
an  ambassador  demanding  that  I  acknowledge  myself  vas 
sal  and  feudatory.  It  was  a  challenge,  and  what  reply 
could  there  be  but  war?  Huascar's  misfortunes  flow  from 
his  misguided  ambition  and  impious  disregard  of  our 
father's  will." 

"  Oh,  pardon  him,  pardon  him,  my  brother !  "  implored 
the  princess,  turning  to  him  and  pressing  her  clasped  hands 
to  her  breast.  "  He  was  ill-advised.  He  was  hounded  to 
his  fault,  I  know,  by  wicked  ministers.  Most  bitterly  hath 
Cuzco  repented  it !  " 

"  Cuzco !  —  it  may  be,"  replied  Atahualpa,  slowly ; 
"but  Huascar —  However,  it  is  my  purpose  to  pardon 
him,  Rava ;  so  banish  thine  unhappiness.  For  the  present, 
for  the  sake  of  the  tranquillity  of  the  empire,  we  must  hold 


THE   MONARCH    AND   PRINCESS    RAVA      55 

him.  But  when  that  is  assured  he  shall  be  free.  Weep  no 
more." 

"  Oh,  Atahualpa,  what  words  will  tell  thee  my  heart's 
gratitude !  "  sobbed  the  young  girl,  taking  his  hand  in  both 
her  own.  "  Thou  knowest  not  what  my  grief  hath  been !  " 

"  Nay !  but  I  do  know,  my  dear.  Since  the  war  began 
I  have  thought  often  what  it  must  be.  But  do  not  thank 
me.  No  need  of  words.  Thy  happiness  is  more  than 
thanks  enough.  I  always  loved  thee,  Rava,  when  we  were 
together  in  the  old  palace  at  Cuzco.  Now,  thou  'rt  no  less 
dear  to  me  than  mine  own  daughters  in  far-off  Quito.  I 
trust  soon  to  remove  the  nearest  cause  of  thy  sorrow.  It 
was  for  this,  as  I  have  said,  that  I  sent  for  thee  to  come  to 
Caxamalca." 

They  were  interrupted  by  a  youth  of  twenty  years,  in 
the  uniform  of  a  Quitoan  general.  As  he  drew  near  he  re 
moved  his  helmet,  disclosing  the  yellow  llautu  worn  by  the 
princes  of  the  blood  royal,  and  knelt  as  he  placed  a  pebble 
upon  his  shoulder  in  the  customary  sign  of  homage.  It 
was  the  Auqui 1  Toparca,  brother  to  Atahualpa,  and  like 
the  latter,  a  half-brother  of  the  Nusta  Rava.  Not  even  his 
exalted  rank  permitted  him  to  approach  the  sovereign 
otherwise  than  in  the  attitude  of  a  subject;  but  the  obei 
sance  performed,  he  arose  and  was  embraced  by  the  two, 
and  the  trio  strolled  on  together.  The  conversation  turned 
at  once  upon  the  strangers  in  Caxamalca.  The  purposed 
visit  of  the  Inca  was  deprecated  with  timid  earnestness  by 
the  Nusta,  and  with  energy  by  the  Auqui ;  but  Atahualpa 
waved  aside  their  objections  with  a  smile,  and  soon  after 
wards  returned  to  the  palace. 

-    *  Auqui  =  Prince. 


CHAPTER   VI 
The  Massacre 

IT  was  after  midday  when  the  Inca  gave  the  order  for 
the  formation  of  his  troops,  and  the  brazen  notes  of 
trumpets  rose  from  the  parade  in  front  of  the  villa. 
As  the  last  measure  died  away  the  call  was  taken  up  in 
one  quarter  after  another,  and  the  air  trembled  with  the  din 
of  the  horns  of  the  legions  from  Quito,  the  hoarse  bellow  of 
the  conches  of  the  coast  tribes,  the  shrieking  pipes  of  the 
mountaineers  from  the  highlands  around  Chimborazo,  and 
the  growl  of  the  drums  of  the  fierce  hordes  from  the  eastern 
slopes  of  the  Andes,  —  a  huge  wild  diapason  that  sent  an 
other  chill  to  Spanish  hearts  as  it  floated  over  the  valley. 

The  tumult  died  away  on  the  distant  flanks  of  the  en 
campment.  Presently,  company  after  company  was  sweep 
ing  into  the«  low  plain  between  the  camp  and  the  river,  and 
forming  into  battalions.  Here  they  stood  motionless,  broke 
at  last  into  columns,  and  marched  down  to  the  fords,  the 
earth  shaken  by  the  feet  of  their  thousands,  the  air  hide 
ously  vibrant  with  the  fierce  music  of  their  instruments  and 
wild  chanting.  A  sound  as  of  surf  breaking  on  a  shingled 
beach  rose  above  the  stream,  its  silver  turned  into  yellow 
turbidity  which  stained  its  course  for  many  a  mile  below, 
while  the  dark  columns  crept  up  the  eastern  bank  and  de 
ployed  on  the  plain  in  front  of  Caxamalca. 

Pizarro,  standing  with  a  small  group  of  officers  on  the 
parapet  of  the  redoubt,  gazed  upon  the  dense,  sinuous  line 
of  masses,  silent  now,  stretching  up  and  down  the  valley. 


THE    MASSACRE  57 

From  tens  of  thousands  of  spear-points  and  from  myriads 
of  brazen  shields  and  helmets,  the  rays  of  the  western  sun 
were  thrown  back  in  a  restless,  quivering  infinitude  of  scin 
tillations.  Slowly,  but  with  a  terrible  steadiness,  the  line 
rolled  forward,  now  obliterating  a  canal  or  roadway,  now 
a  garden  or  a  field  of  grain;  here,  a  battalion  losing  itself 
in  a  grove ;  there,  in  the  aisles  of  an  orchard ;  to  reappear 
on  the  hither  side,  perfect  in  alignment.  At  length,  at  a 
distance  of  something  less  than  a  mile,  the  central  battal 
ions  halted,  but  the  wings  swept  on  until  a  vast,  dark  semi 
circle  confronted  the  town. 

Pizarro  watched  the  progress  of  the  movement  in 
silence,  speaking  only  to  give  an  order,  or  in  brief  reply  to 
some  remark  or  inquiry  from  one  of  his  companions.  With 
him  were  several  of  his  staff,  Father  Valverde,  Felipillo 
the  interpreter,  and  two  or  three  orderlies.  At  the  head  of 
the  stairway  descending  to  the  square  were  Candia's  two 
cannon,  commanding  the  place.  Close  at  hand  was  a 
brazier  of  burning  charcoal  for  the  matches  of  the  cannon 
eers,  who  were  clustered  at  the  parapet,  barefooted  and 
stripped  to  the  waist,  watching,  half-stupefied,  the  advan 
cing  hordes. 

Below,  the  sunlit  square,  with  its  shadows  now  steal 
ing  out  from  the  westward,  was  deserted  —  peaceful  as  on 
a  Sabbath.  And  the  Sabbath  it  might  have  been,  for  from 
one  of  the  buildings  came  the  unceasing  murmur  of  the 
priests  at  prayer.  All  night  long  priests  had  knelt  in  pious 
invocation  of  the  aid  of  the  Lord  of  Hosts  and  the  Holy 
Virgin  upon  this  day's  undertaking.  Thus,  too,  they  had 
knelt  since  dawn,  when  mass  had  been  celebrated,  the  sol 
diers  joining  devoutly  in  the  hymn,  "  Exsurge,  Domim,  et 
judica  cattsam  tuam" 

il  Rise,  O  Lord,  and  judge  thy  cause !  "  —  so  they  had 
chanted,  with  hearts  swelling  with  the  exaltation  of  faith 
that  the  cause  was  just,  with  the  sublime  confidence  that 


58  THE    CRIMSON    CONQUEST 

the  Holy  Cross  must  triumph.  Through  the  night  Pizarro 
had  been  among  them,  had  spoken  with  simple  eloquence, 
had  inspired  their  zeal  by  his  own;  and  had  roused  alike 
the  fires  of  religious  fervor  and  the  lust  of  conquest  and 
of  pagan  gold.  Through  the  night  the  ecclesiastics  had 
given  themselves  to  discipline,  had  shed  tears  and  blood 
while  they  scourged  themselves  and  cried  to  Heaven  to 
give  victory  to  the  soldiers  of  the  True  Faith.  Such  was 
the  prelude ! 

And  now,  behind  the  great  doors  giving  upon  the 
square  the  companies  waited  in  grim  readiness :  in  one  of 
the  buildings,  the  infantry;  in  another,  De  Soto's  troop; 
in  a  third,  that  of  Hernando  Pizarro.  The  hours  had 
lengthened  through  the  morning,  and  still  they  waited  in 
suspense.  Under  prolonged  tension  their  enthusiasm  had 
waned,  and  now  many  a  villanous  face,  recently  alight 
with  devotion,  grew  anxious  or  lowering.  Some  time  after 
midday  a  chasqui,  or  runner,  had  arrived  from  the  Inca  with 
the  announcement  that  he  would  come  with  warriors  fully 
armed,  like  the  Spanish  emissaries  the  day  before.  Replied 
Pizarro,  "  Say  to  your  Senor  that  in  whatever  manner  he 
cometh  he  shall  be  received  as  a  friend  and  brother."  Then 
he  turned  to  Hernando  with  a  black  scowl :  "  Let  the  in 
fidel  come  as  he  will !  —  only  Heaven  grant  that  he  may 
not  come  tardily!  Delay  is  more  to  be  dreaded  than  an 
onslaught.  A  few  more  hours  of  this  waiting,  and  the 
blood  of  our  men  will  turn  to  water." 

Hernando  shrugged  gloomily,  and  turned  his  eyes 
upon  the  advancing  lines. 

It  was  late  afternoon  before  the  movement  of  the  Inca's 
troops  was  completed.  For  any  sign  of  perturbation 
Pizarro  might  have  been  observing  a  parade;  though  his 
thin  lips  were  more  than  usually  compressed,  his  face  a  bit 
more  pallid,  his  taciturnity  increased.  De  Soto  was  con 
versing  in  a  low  tone  with  Candia  as  they  surveyed  the 


THE    MASSACRE  59 

field.  Hernando  Pizarro  was  standing  beside  his  brother 
on  the  parapet,  muttering  occasional  oaths. 

"Carambal"  he  exclaimed,  as  the  wings  of  the  ap 
proaching  army  began  to  close  in.  "  It  appeareth  that  the 
Inca  accepteth  thine  invitation  with  some  emphasis,  Fran 
cisco  !  Had  we  better  not  change  our  plans  and  prepare  to 
defend  the  town  whilst  there  is  yet  time?  That  is  a  pretty 
formation  for  attack,  if  I  ever  saw  one,  and  more  promising 
of  a  fight  than  of  a  neighborly  visit,  I  '11  be  bound !  " 

"  Wait !  "   replied  the  commander,  shortly. 

"  By  the  saints,  we  have  little  time  for  waiting !  They 
will  be  upon  us  in  half  an  hour ;  and  not  even  a  barricade ! 
Let  me  take  my  troop  and  show  them  our  metal,  at  least." 

"  Wait !  "  repeated  Pizarro,  sternly. 

Hernando  sprang  down  with  a  curse,  and  strode  away. 
At  this  instant  an  exclamation  broke  from  De  Soto. 

"  Look !  —  The  causeway !  " 

The  head  of  a  column  had  pushed  out  from  the  trees 
which  hid  the  approach  to  the  bridge.  The  distance  was  too 
great  to  disclose  its  nature,  but  soon  the  highway  was  cov 
ered  with  thousands.  Presently  Pizarro  noted  with  relief 
that  the  movement  of  the  encircling  line  had  been  arrested, 
and  the  approaching  column  had  advanced  beyond  it.  He 
could  hear  the  rolling  of  drums  and  the  weird  strains  of 
heathen  marching  music.  Soon  no  doubt  remained  that  it 
was  the  escort  of  the  Inca.  About  half  a  mile  from  the 
edge  of  the  town  the  column  turned  from  the  causeway  and 
halted,  and  the  anxious  watchers  saw  they  were  pitching 
tents.  A  chasqtti  was  seen  speeding  toward  the  town. 
Pizarro  descended  to  the  square  with  his  officers.  A  soldier 
from  the  exterior  guard  hurried  in  with  the  chasqui,  a  half- 
naked,  clean-limbed,  intelligent-looking  youth,  lithe  and 
supple  as  a  panther.  He  bore  a  message,  translated  by 
Felipillo,  to  the  effect  that  the  Inca  would  camp  for  the 
night  on  the  plain,  and  would  enter  in  the  morning.  An 


60  THE    CRIMSON    CONQUEST 

impatient  oath,  quickly  suppressed,  escaped  Pizarro,  and 
he  replied  coolly :  — 

"  Tell  him  that  our  disappointment  will  be  immeasur 
able.  We  have  made  all  preparations  for  his  reception, 
and  hope  to  have  him  sup  with  us." 

The  *chasqui  darted  away. 

After  an  interval  another  arrived.  The  Inca  would 
be  pleased  to  come;  and  as  he  would  remain  overnight, 
would  bring  his  attendants,  but  without  arms.  The 
chasqui  departed.  Pizarro,  his  pallid  face  lighted  for  an 
instant  by  a  smile,  sinister  and  triumphant,  turned  to  his 
officers. 

"  Now,  gentlemen,  the  quarry !  Remember  —  every 
thing,  our  lives,  all,  hang  upon  the  absolute  and  implicit 
observance  of  my  instructions.  If  we  fail,"  he  waved 
his  hand  toward  the  menacing  dark  semicircle  outside  the 
town,  "  ye  know  what  to  expect.  But  we  shall  not  fail. 
Now,  to  your  posts,  and  may  the  Virgin  have  us  all  in  her 
keeping !  I  believe  every  man  knoweth  his  duty.  Candia, 
art  ready?" 

"  More  than  ready,  General ! " 

"Then,  to  thy  guns!" 

Candia  returned  to  the  redoubt,  occupied  now  only  by 
his  cannoneers  and  the  sentinel. 

On  the  plain  the  tent-pitching  is  given  over,  the  column 
has  regained  the  causeway,  and  is  again  approaching  the 
town.  In  front  are  a  multitude  of  sweepers,  clearing  the 
way  of  every  pebble,  fallen  leaf,  or  twig,  singing  as  they 
work.  In  their  rear  are  a  hundred  drummers  beating,  in  a 
strange  cadence,  long-bodied  drums  of  varied  size  and 
pitch  of  tone.  Following  these,  the  imperial  band  of  five 
hundred  musicians,  gorgeously  liveried  and  resplendent 
with  trappings  of  burnished  metal,  playing  on  trumpets, 
pipes,  and  stringed  instruments  of  divers  forms,  the  wild 
but  not  unmusical  march  sung  by  the  sweepers.  Then,  at 


THE    MASSACRE  6r 

an  interval,  follow  a  thousand  nobles  in  white  tunics,  bear 
ing  small  mallets  or  hammers  of  copper  and  silver.  An 
other  interval,  and  a  second  body  of  nobles  of  higher  rank, 
in  tunics  of  checkered  white  and  red,  ablaze  with  ornaments 
of  gold.  Now,  two  battalions  of  the  splendid  warriors  in 
the  blue  of  the  Incarial  Guard,  but  without  arms.  Between 
them,  and  guarded  by  a  platoon  of  nobles,  floats  the  stan 
dard  of  the  Inca.  Immediately  after  the  detachment  of  the 
guard,  seated  upon  an  open  litter,  or  sedan,  borne  on  the 
shoulders  of  half  a  score  of  nobles  of  the  highest  rank,  and 
surrounded  by  his  attendants,  counsellors,  and  priests,  is 
Atahualpa,  a  most  imperial  and  commanding  figure,  as 
we  have  seen.  In  the  rear,  follows  a  great  column  of 
guards  and  nobles  no  less  splendid  than  those  of  the  van. 

Treasure  enough  here,  Pizarro,  to  whet  the  greed  and 
nerve  the  arms  of  your  ravening,  plunder-hungry  compan 
ions,  could  they  but  behold  it  from  their  concealment !  Let 
us  see.  Twenty-five  thousand  ducats  in  the  seat  on  which 
the  Inca  sits.  Thousands  more  in  the  decorations  of  the 
sedan.  Thousands  more  in  the  gem-encrusted  standard, 
and  every  noble  in  the  train  wearing  a  small  fortune  on  his 
person.  Such  a  display  never  before  met  the  eyes  or 
brightened  the  dreams  of  your  Spaniards,  whom  the 
chasqui  has  reported,  not  without  truth,  as  huddled,  panic- 
stricken,  in  some  of  the  buildings  of  the  town. 

The  pageant  has  passed  the  suburbs  and  is  in  the 
streets,  deserted  as  Pizarro  found  them  yesterday ;  for  the 
exterior  guards  have  been  withdrawn,  to  be  of  use,  pres 
ently,  elsewhere.  Now  the  column  has  entered  the  great 
square,  opening  its  files  to  the  right  and  left  to  permit  the 
passage  of  the  Inca  and  his  suite,  who  move  to  the  middle 
of  the  place  and  halt,  the  escort  massing  on  the  flanks  and 
rear.  Company  after  company  of  the  guard,  and  body  after 
body  of  the  nobles,  march  into  the  plaza  and  take  position 
with  a  celerity  and  precision  of  movement  showing  the 


6a  THE    CRIMSON    CONQUEST 

highest  discipline;  and  it  is  long  before  the  rear  has  de 
ployed  from  the  narrow  street.  Meanwhile  the  Inca  has 
looked  about,  at  first  with  expectant  interest,  then  with 
growing  suspicion  and  impatience  as  he  perceives  no  sign 
of  welcome,  nor  any  living  being  outside  of  his  own  follow 
ing.  The  silence  is  strange,  in  truth,  and  not  reassuring, 

—  even  it  is  ominous.     The  great  doors  facing  upon  the 
square  are  closed  and  blank.    At  the  head  of  the  stairway 
entering  the  redoubt  two  bronze  muzzles   overlook  the 
plaza,  but  these  are  quite  without  significance.     At  last 
the  Inca  demands,  with  increasing  ire  at  the  too  evident 
discourtesy :  — 

"  Where  are  the  strangers?  " 

As  if  in  answer  to  his  question  a  door  opposite  partly 
opens,  and  the  dingy,  gray-black  figure  of  Father  Val- 
verde,  in  march-worn  cassock,  bearing  crucifix  and  brevi 
ary,  enters  the  square.  A  soldier  follows,  in  complete 
armor.  He  is  known  to  history  as  Hernando  de  Aldana 

—  introduced  and  dismissed  for  all  time  by  a  dozen  brief 
words.    Behind  him  comes  the  malicious,  spoiled  renegade, 
Felipillo,  shaking  now  in  his  Spanish  boots,  and  scarcely 
fit  to  perform  his  office  of  interpreting. 

Slowly,  and  with  priestly  dignity,  the  gray-black  fig 
ure  approaches  the  Inca  as  no  man  ever  approached  him 
before,  with  unbended  knee  or  back,  bearing  no  burden 
or  symbol  of  one,  and  no  doubt  regarded  curiously  and  con 
temptuously  enough  by  the  monarch,  who  is  not  done  with 
considering  the  quality  of  his  reception. 

Father  Valverde,  informing  the  Inca  that  he  has  been 
ordered  by  his  general,  Pizarro,  to  teach  him  the  doctrines 
of  the  True  Faith,  at  once  sets  about  that  undertaking,  ex 
pounding  its  tenets  briefly  and  as  convincingly,  perhaps,  as 
could  have  been  done  under  the  circumstances.  Then,  fol 
lowing  the  formula  customarily  used  by  the  Spanish  con- 
quistadores,  he  announces  the  spiritual  supremacy  of  the 


THE    MASSACRE  63 

Pope,  and  the  temporal  power  of  the  Emperor  Charles  the 
Fifth,  and  urgently  recommends  that  the  Inca  acknowl 
edge  himself  tributary  to  the  latter,  forthwith. 

No  doubt  the  father  expounded  the  doctrines  as  con 
vincingly  as  possible  under  the  circumstances ;  and  with  as 
much  effect,  probably,  as  was  expected  of  the  perfunctory 
mockery  by  the  Spaniards  themselves:  at  any  rate,  not 
convincingly  enough,  but  with  the  effect  looked  for  and 
desired ;  for  Atahualpa,  firing  at  the  suggestion  of  vassal 
age,  reddens  with  anger,  and  demanding  of  Valverde  his 
credentials  and  authority,  seizes  the  breviary,  turns  its 
pages  rapidly,  then  casts  it  upon  the  ground  with  right 
kingly  scorn  and  rage. 

"  Tell  your  general,"  says  he,  with  hot  pride,  "  and  let 
him  say  it  to  his  emperor,  that  I  am  no  man's  vassal !  And 
say  further  that  before  I  leave  this  place  your  people  shall 
account  to  me  for  every  act  of  presumption  or  violence  done 
within  my  territories !  " 

Shocked  at  the  sacrilege  offered  the  holy  book,  the 
good  father  snatches  it  from  among  the  feet  of  the 
heathens.  The  doughty  Aldana  claps  hand  to  his 
sword  with  Spanish  bravado,  —  even  draws  it,  says  one,  — 
but  the  priest  is  scuttling  across  the  plaza  to  Pizarro,  who 
is  waiting  in  the  building  occupied  by  the  infantry. 
Aldana  follows.  The  wretched  farce  is  ended  —  a  farce 
truly  Spanish,  as  what  follows  is  truly  and  characteristic 
ally  Spanish. 

The  door  opens  again,  and  Father  Valverde,  pale  to 
the  lips,  enters  and  stands  before  Pizarro,  who  is  no  less 
pale,  but  infinitely  more  composed.  Back  of  him  in  the 
dim  obscurity  of  the  great  hall  is  massed  the  infantry, 
every  sword  bared,  every  pike  and  halberd  clutched  with 
nerves  strained  by  long  suspense.  The  priest,  his  voice 
husky  with  excitement  and  rage  at  the  indignity  put 
upon  the  holy  book,  and,  it  may  be,  at  the  unconcealed 


64  THE    CRIMSON    CONQUEST 

contempt  with  which  he  was  received  by  the  monarch, 
exclaims :  — 

"Dost  not  see  —  dost  not  see  what  is  taking  place? 
Whilst  we  are  engaged  in  courtesies  and  parley  with  this 
dog  full  of  pride,  the  plains  are  filled  with  his  warriors! 
Fall  upon  hirn !  Fall  upon  him !  —  I  absolve  you !  " 

Pizarro  makes  no  reply,  but  flushes  with  unaccus 
tomed  color,  and  steps  out  of  the  door  into  the  plaza,  in 
his  hand  a  white  scarf.  The  Inca,  with  the  frown  deepen 
ing  upon  his  stern,  calm  face,  sees  him  raise  it  over  his 
head,  and  wonders  what  new  idleness 

A  quick,  sudden  flash,  half  perceived,  a  sharp,  ear- 
stunning  explosion,  as  of  lightning  striking  near,  and  an 
unseen  messenger  of  death  ploughs  a  mangled,  horrid  fur 
row  through  the  dense  ranks  of  the  Peruvians.  A  plunging, 
white  sulphurous  cloud  has  burst  from  one  of  the  guns 
on  the  redoubt,  and  rolls  low  and  stifling  over  the  square. 
There  is  a  brief  instant  of  stillness,  then  a  moan  of  terror, 
broken  quickly  by  yells  of  wounded  men,  answered  by  a 
second  flash  and  roar.  The  great  doors  swing  back,  their 
blankness  giving  place  to  sudden  fell  activity  as  charging 
columns  crash  into  the  open  with  the  battle-cries  of  Spain. 
An  avalanche  of  steel-clad  men  and  horses  here;  another 
there;  a  rushing,  bellowing  phalanx  of  infantry  between. 
' '  Santiago  a  ettos  I "  "  Cristo  y  San  Miguel  I ' '  They  strike 
the  fear-numbed  mass  of  the  Peruvians,  cutting,  thrusting, 
slashing,  with  resistless  fury.  The  ranks  of  nobles,  silent 
and  motionless  a  moment  ago,  are  whirled  by  the  shock 
into  a  seething,  shrieking  tumult.  Those  on  the  edge 
of  the  concourse  are  hurled  back  upon  their  fellows  by 
the  tremendous  impact,  and  cut  down  while  they  reel. 
The  mail-clad  Spaniards,  released  from  the  nervous 
strain  of  hours'  duration,  are  seized  of  blood-madness. 
Their  battle-cries  are  lost  in  an  infernal  chorus  of 
screams  of  agony,  overtopped  by  the  reports  of  the 


THE   MASSACRE  65 

cannon  which  thunder  savage  accompaniment.  A  pande 
monium!  An  outbreak  of  hell  itself!  A  horror  not  to 
be  dwelt  upon! 

The  worst  of  the  slaughter  is  around  Atahualpa,  whose 
person  the  Spaniards  are  making  most  desperate  efforts  to 
gain;  but  a  large  number  of  his  escort,  cut  off  by  the 
charge  of  De  Soto's  troop,  have  stampeded  in  wild  panic 
down  the  narrow  streets  leading  from  the  plaza.  A  few 
escape,  but  in  a  moment  these  avenues  are  blocked  by  the 
crush.  De  Soto,  having  perceived  at  once  that  the  Peru 
vians  are  unarmed  and  that  victory  —  if  this  atrocity  can 
be  so  called  —  was  assured  by  the  very  first  collision,  essays 
gallantly  to  check  the  worse  than  useless  butchery.  His 
commands  are  unheard.  He  snatches  his  trumpeter's  in 
strument  and  blows  the  recall  —  blows  again  and  again. 
As  well  shout  injunctions  to  a  tornado,  or  call  to  a  pack  of 
wolves.  He  drives  among  his  men,  striking  up  their 
weapons.  De  Piedra,  enraged  by  his  interference,  aims  a 
cut  at  him,  and  is  unhelmed  and  unhorsed  by  a  blow  from 
the  captain's  mace.  Well  struck,  De  Soto !  Pity  it  had  not 
been  better;  for  Piedra  will  be  breathing  again  before  an 
hour  has  passed.  But  De  Soto  finds  it  perilous  work.  In 
a  moment  his  horse  is  wounded  by  a  pikeman,  and  rearing, 
slips  and  is  down.  Steed  and  rider  are  lost  in  the  confu 
sion:  at  last,  up  again,  the  captain  unhurt.  It  is  some 
minutes  before  he  is  mounted,  and  meanwhile  a  wall  of 
stone  and  adobe  forming  part  of  the  enclosure  of  the 
square  has  given  away  before  the  crush  of  the  fear-driven 
horde,  and  they  burst  through  the  break  in  a  huge  strug 
gling  torrent.  They  reach  the  plain  outside  the  town,  pur 
sued  with  relentless  ferocity  by  the  cavalry.  The  Inca's 
troops,  already  in  consternation  at  the  uproar  in  the  vil 
lage,  the  shrieks,  the  cannonade,  and  the  overhanging 
cloud  of  smoke,  take  the  panic  and  scatter  as  chaff  before 
the  wind. 


66  THE   CRIMSON    CONQUEST 

In  the  square  the  din  has  lost  its  volume.  Candia  has 
ceased  firing,  for  the  smoke  impedes  his  view  of  the 
shambles,  where  friends  are  endangered  by  his  guns. 
Around  the  Inca  the  unequal  struggle  goes  on  under  his 
horror-stricken  eyes,  and  he  stands,  benumbed  and  help 
less,  tottering  on  his  reeling  litter.  In  the  anguish  of  their 
despair  his  nobles  cast  themselves  to  death  with  a  loyalty 
of  devotion  the  gods  might  envy;  but  the  bulwark  they 
interpose  before  their  beloved  lord  grows  steadily  less. 
Several  of  the  Spaniards  now  are  making  frenzied  efforts 
to  reach  him  with  their  weapons,  and  one  has  hurled  his 
pike.  Pizarro  sees  the  movement  and  shouts,  hoarse  with 
weariness,  unheard  and  unheeded,  "  Strike  not  the  Inca, 
on  pain  of  death !  " 

But  he  is  heard  by  Cristoval,  who,  with  two  or  three 
sick  men,  has  been  left  as  a  guard  for  the  priests,  still 
at  their  supplications.  Since  the  first  thundering  charge 
he  has  watched  the  long  tragedy,  at  first  with  tense 
excitement  at  the  onslaught,  then  with  deepening 
horror  and  loathing  when  he  saw  the  defencelessness 
of  the  Peruvians,  until  he  has  turned  away,  sick  to  his 
very  soul,  hating  his  race,  his  blood,  his  parentage,  him 
self.  He  has  cast  his  sword  upon  the  ground.  Now  he 
seizes  it  and  bounds  toward  the  scene  with  a  curse  at 
every  stride. 

The  enclosing  line  of  Spaniards  has  drawn  near  to 
the  Inca.  One  of  his  bearers  goes  down,  then  another. 
The  sedan  plunges  wildly  and  sinks,  throwing  its  royal 
burden  almost  upon  the  weapons  of  his  enemies.  He  is 
down.  A  pike  is  at  his  breast,  but  swept  aside  by  Cristo- 
val's  sword,  whose  savage  thrust  the  infantryman  barely 
escapes.  An  axe  flashes  overheard,  and  crashes  upon  Cris- 
toval's  buckler.  But  Pizarro  is  beside  him.  As  the  gen 
eral  stretches  out  his  hand  to  raise  the  Inca,  a  pike-thrust 
rips  both  hand  and  arm  —  the  only  wound,  be  it  known  to 


THE   MASSACRE  67 

the  everlasting  infamy  of  this  band  of  murderers,  received 
by  a  Spaniard  in  the  day's  affair ! 

Pizarro's  voice  rises  above  the  tumult :  "  Back,  dogs ! 
Back,  or,  by  God,  ye  shall  suffer ! " 

De  Soto  has  dismounted,  and  dashes  through  the  rabid 
pack.  His  buckler  touches  that  of  Cristoval,  and  the  two 
shields  ring  with  a  shower  of  blows  aimed  at  the  Inca.  It 
is  minutes  before  the  murderous  zeal  is  quelled,  and  a 
circle  cleared  around  the  captive  prince. 

A  stillness  has  settled  over  the  plaza  —  alas!  not  a 
stillness;  for  the  din  has  given  place  to  sounds  yet  more 
dreadful,  in  the  shrieks  and  groans  of  the  wounded  and 
dying. 

There  are  many  prisoners,  and  Hernando  Pizarro  is 
directing  the  work  of  making  them  secure  in  the  buildings. 
Surrounding  the  group  about  the  Inca  is  a  turbulent  circle 
of  soldiers,  panting  yet  from  their  work,  and  jostling  one 
another  for  a  view  of  the  royal  prisoner.  They  make  a 
savage  and  grewsome  picture  as  they  glare,  red-eyed,  faces 
flushed,  reeking  with  sweat  and  splashed  with  blood  from 
head  to  foot,  leaning  upon  their  gory  weapons.  Atahualpa 
stands  silent,  proudly  erect,  his  features  immovable  as 
bronze,  seemingly  devoid  of  emotion  as  if  his  heart  were 
of  that  metal.  His  dark,  stern  eyes  overlook  the  encircling 
mob,  but  as  if  they  see  no  man.  He  is  no  less  kingly  now 
than  a  few  hours  ago,  when  surrounded  by  the  splendor  of 
his  court.  Those  guarding  him  are  equally  silent  in  the 
stupor  of  weariness  and  reaction.  At  length  Pizarro 
speaks : — 

"  Come,  gentlemen,  let  us  move !    Guard  him  closely !  " 

They  close  round  him.  As  they  are  about  to  leave 
the  square,  Atahualpa  turns  toward  the  heaps  of  his 
people  who  vainly  gave  their  lives  in  his  defence,  and 
raising  his  hands,  speaks  a  few  words  in  Quichua,  broken 
by  one  great  sob  that  shakes  his  frame.  Then  he  turns 


I 

68  THE   CRIMSON    CONQUEST 

away,  his  countenance  as  sternly  impassive  and  inscruta 
ble  as  before. 

As  they  enter  the  building  which  is  to  serve  as  his 
temporary  prison,  the  sun  is  setting  —  setting  forever 
upon  the  empire  of  the  Incas. 


CHAPTER  VII 
Cavalier  and  Cantinero 

NIGHT  fell  before  the  cavalry  returned  from  pur 
suing  the  wretched  fugitives,  whom  they  hunted 
almost  to  the  confines  of  the  Peruvian  camp, 
riding  them  down  in  their  flight,  and  slaying 
without  mercy.  The  troops  of  the  Inca  had  fled  without 
striking  a  blow.  It  would  be  difficult  to  explain  their  com 
plete  demoralization  did  we  not  consider  the  superstitious 
awe  with  which  the  Spaniards  had  been  regarded  from  their 
first  landing  upon  the  Peruvian  coasts.  Their  aspect  and 
the  supernatural  powers  ascribed  to  them  bore  out  the 
ancient  tradition  of  the  fair-faced  god,  Viracocha,  who,  it  is 
said,  had  once  appeared  upon  earth,  and  whose  reappear 
ance  had  been  foretold  by  the  oracles.  The  white  men  were 
his  descendants  and  agents.  Already  they  were  known  as 
Viracochas.  A  mere  handful,  but  armed  with  thunderbolts, 
they  had  seized  the  sacred  person  of  the  Inca  and  destroyed 
his  nobles  and  generals  at  a  blow.  The  keystone,  the  arch 
itself,  of  the  empire  had  crumbled  and  fallen  under  the  dire 
calamity.  The  people  were  without  a  ruler,  the  army  with 
out  leaders.  The  authority  which  had  held  the  tribes  to 
gether  was  dissolved  in  an  hour.  Accustomed  for  genera 
tions  to  the  rule  of  the  most  absolute  despotism  the  world 
has  ever  known,  they  were  now  incapable  of  initiative. 
The  Empire  of  Tavantinsuyu  was  a  rudderless  ship.  The 
army  resolved  itself  into  its  elements  and  fell  in  pieces. 


70  THE   CRIMSON    CONQUEST 

The  Inca  supped  that  night  with  the  Spanish  comman 
der  and  his  officers,  as  had  been  promised.  Cristoval, 
the  only  officer  fit  for  duty  after  the  day's  work,  had  been 
detailed  as  commander  of  the  exterior  guard,  glad  to  be 
relieved  of  the  need  of  sitting  at  table  with  his  comrades 
after  so  base  a  massacre,  which,  in  his  enforced  role  of 
spectator,  he  had  seen  in  its  full  horror.  He  was  a  soldier, 
and  possibly  not  less  callous  to  bloodshed  and  suffering 
than  many  others  of  his  calling,  but  never  had  he  beheld 
butchery  so  wanton  and  unhindered.  Had  he  been  a  partici 
pant —  and  now  he  fervently  thanked  God  for  preventing 
it  —  he  would  have  been  less  impressed  by  its  enormity. 
He  must  even  have  shared  in  some  degree  the  infection  of 
ferocity,  until  he  should  have  realized,  as  had  De  Soto,  the 
uselessness  of  the  slaughter  and  revolted.  But  compelled 
to  look  on  in  cool  blood,  he  had  sickened.  He  sickened 
more  at  the  brutal  exultation,  and  at  the  ghastly  sights  in 
the  square.  A  battlefield  he  could  have  surveyed  unmoved. 
This  slaughter-pen  horrified  him. 

When  his  detail  was  formed  he  marched  it  away,  grate 
ful  to  Heaven  that  his  post  was  remote  alike  from  the 
jubilation  of  the  soldiers  and  from  the  sounds  and  tainted 
air  of  the  plaza. 

At  a  villa  beside  the  road  along  which  the  Inca  had 
entered  the  town,  he  halted  his  command.  The  place  had 
been  broken  into  the  evening  before  for  use  as  a  guard 
house,  and  while  his  sergeant  was  making  up  his  reliefs, 
Cristoval  took  a  lantern  and  walked  through  the  vacant 
rooms.  They  showed  at  every  step  the  marks  of  the  vandal 
ism  of  yesterday's  guard,  and  he  explored  gloomily  the  ruin 
of  what  had  been  a  handsome  dwelling.  Tapestries  before 
the  doors  had  been  torn  down  for  beds.  Quaintly  carved 
furniture  had  been  used  for  firewood ;  fragments  of  table 
ware  were  scattered  everywhere,  with  curiously  fashioned 
bronze  and  brass  vessels  crushed  by  the  heels  of  the 


CAVALIER   AND    CANTINERO  71 

soldiers.  More  precious  articles  had  been  sought,  as  was 
evident  in  the  disorder  of  every  apartment,  in  broken 
chests,  and  doors  with  battered  fastenings.  Cristoval 
ordered  a  room  cleared  and  prepared  for  his  vigil. 

Just  after  midnight,  having  returned  from  his  rounds, 
he  heard  a  challenge  from  the  sentinel  in  front  of  the  villa, 
then  the  voice  of  Pedro,  and  in  a  moment  the  cook  stumped 
across  the  court  and  knocked.  Cristoval  called  to  him  to 
enter,  and  he  came  in,  followed  by  his  boy,  laden  with  what 
Pedro  guessed  would  be  welcome  at  midnight  to  any  officer 
of  any  guard. 

"  Tibi  bene  dico  I "  quoth  Pedro,  "  and  may  the  night  be 
without  alarms.  I  have  brought  thee  good  cheer,  Cristo 
val,  lest  hunger  contend  with  vigilance.  Stomachus  plenus 
•vigiUam  long  am  contrahii  —  which  is  to  say  that  a  full 
stomach  shorteneth  a  long  watch.  Caesar,  I  believe." 
Pedro  grinned  benignly  upon  the  cavalier,  who  arose  and 
greeted  him  with  warmth. 

"  Pedro,  thou  'rt  a  good  man,  full  of  good  deeds.  On 
my  soul,  I  rejoice  to  see  thee  with  or  without  thy  cheer,  for 
I  find  the  night  melancholy." 

"  Good !  "  said  Pedro.  "  Then  am  I  doubly  welcome. 
Here,  Pedrillo,  lay  out  the  supper  on  this  table.  Have  a 
care,  boy !  Spill  that  soup,  thou  imp,  and  I  '11  make  another 
of  thee!" 

"  Why,  amigo"  said  Cristoval,  surveying  the  repast, 
"  it  is  a  feast !  Thy  substantial  cheer  is  second  only  to  the 
spiritual  cheer  in  thine  atmosphere.  Accept  my  thanks. 
Hast  supped,  thyself?  " 

"  No.  No  time  for  it.  I  prepared  the  banquet  to  the 
Inca  and  saw  it  served." 

"  Then  thou  'It  sup  with  me.  There  is  more  than 
enough  for  two.  Pedrillo,  another  chair.  Fall  to,  thou 
good  culinary  saint,  and  tell  me  about  the  banquet.  How 
doth  the  Inca  bear  it?  " 


73  THE   CRIMSON    CONQUEST 

"He  near  broke  my  heart  with  his  indifferent  appe 
tite,"  growled  the  cook,  as  he  seated  himself ;  "  but  other 
wise  he  is  most  commendable.  I  thought  to  see  a  sullen, 
savage  chieftain,  oppressed  by  conscious  inferiority  and 
afraid  of  the  tableware.  Not  so !  He  was  gloomy,  't  is 
true,  —  and  who,  in  his  position,  would  not  be  so?  —  but 
he  strove  against  it,  and  talked  graciously  with  Pizarro  and 
the  others  through  Felipillo,  making  the  best  of  matters 
right  gallantly,  like  a  man.  He  wore  a  dignity  and  fortitude 
in  the  face  of  adversity,  Cristoval,  that  would  become  any 
king,  white  or  bronze." 

"  So  he  bore  himself  in  the  square,  when  taken,"  re 
marked  Cristoval. 

"  Ah !  "  said  Pedro.  "  'T  is  as  much  as  a  point  of  honor 
with  them,  saith  Felipillo,  not  to  show  emotion.  I  tell  thee, 
amiffo,  he  compelled  the  respect  of  the  officers,  and  no  one 
said  a  discourteous  word  but  that  beast  of  a  Mendoza, 
whom  Pizarro  commanded  to  keep  his  tongue  between  his 
teeth,  and  forbade  Felipillo  to  translate  his  words.  The 
Inca  paid  much  attention  to  De  Soto,  who  sat  nearly  oppo 
site,  and  who,  it  appeareth,  defended  him  against  the  pikes 
of  those  hounds  of  the  infantry  who  would  have  had  his 
life.  He  asked  for  someone  else,  and  De  Soto  spoke  thy 
name,  Cristoval.  Wast  thou  beside  De  Soto  when  the  Inca 
fell?  Then  that  was  it !  Well,  the  Inca  hath  not  forgotten. 
I  would  there  had  been  other  acts  of  chivalry  done  by 
Spaniards  this  day  worthy  to  be  remembered ! " 

"  A  horrible  affair,  Pedro !  "  said  Cristoval. 

"  Most  damnably  horrible ! "  replied  Pedro,  lowering 
his  voice.  "  I  have  never  seen  its  like  but  once.  That  was 
when  a  boy,  in  Palencia.  One  night  near  dawn  a  pack  of 
wolves,  driven  by  the  winter's  cold  down  from  the  Canta- 
brian  Mountains,  broke  into  the  sheepfold.  I  thought  of  it 
to-day.  I  have  soldiered  long,  Cristoval,  but  curse  me  if 
my  sword  ever  took  life  from  a  defenceless  man!  But  let 


CAVALIER   AND    CANT  I  NERO  73 

me  warn  thee  to  make  no  comments  likely  to  reach  the  ears 
of  the  commander.  He  and  De  Soto  have  had  words 
already.  De  Soto  tried  to  stay  his  troop  during  the  slaugh 
ter.  Jose  and  two  others  aided  him." 

"  I  am  glad  to  hear  it  of  Jose,"  said  Cristoval. 

"  I  fear  Jose  hath  trouble  in  store,"  returned  Pedro, 
with  a  shake  of  his  head.  "  That  little  jaundiced  friar, 
Mauricio,  hath  announced  that  during  the  struggle  he  saw 
the  Virgin  and  Babe,  with  Santiago  mounted  on  his  white 
charger  smiting  the  infidels  with  a  flaming  sword.  He  hath 
been  seeking  corroboration,  and  two  infantrymen  swear 
they  beheld  it  too.  The  friar  asked  Jose,  and  Jose  ripped 
out  a  great  oath,  '  No ;  and  if  such  a  sight  was  seen,  the 
observers  must  have  mistaken  the  spirits,  for  none  but  the 
devil  and  his  devils  would  have  taken  part  in  such  infamy ! ' 
Fray  Mauricio's  face  went  livid,  and  he  denounced  Jose  as 
a  heretic.  He  hath  gone  to  Father  Valverde  and  the  com 
mander.  Thou  knowest  he  is  fresh  from  the  Inquisition? 
Well,  it  is  so!  He  was  one  of  its  most  zealous  officers,  and 
the  soldiers  say  he  hath  a  chest  full  of  instruments  to  make 
good  Christians  of  the  Indies." 

"He  will  hardly  make  trouble  for  Jose,"  replied  Cris 
toval.  "  Jose  is  indispensable  to  the  army." 

"A  heretic  is  indispensable  to  the  Inquisition!  For 
the  present  Jose  is  safe ;  but  wait !  "  Pedro  hitched  his 
chair  a  little  nearer,  and  bent  forward.  "  I  tell  thee,  Cris 
toval,  Fray  Mauricio  intendeth  trouble.  Thou  knowest 
Jose  is  sometimes  called  '  El  Morisco '  by  the  soldiers.  Bten  I 
And  a  Morisco  I  believe  him  to  be.  Hast  ever  thought 
of  it?  " 

Cristoval  laid  down  his  knife  and  regarded  the  cook 
seriously.  "  By  the  saints,  Pedro !  "  he  said  at  length, 
"  I  believe  thou  'rt  right.  I  had  given  it  no  thought,  but 
now  I  reflect,  he  hath  the  look,  for  a  certainty." 

"  Ah ! "  said  Pedro,  leaning  back.    "  He  hath  the  look ! 


74  THE   CRIMSON    CONQUEST 

He  hath  the  manner;  and  for  one  not  a  clerical  he  is  a 
learned  man  —  too  learned  for  a  good  Christian,  Cristoval. 
He  saith,"  —  here  Pedro  laid  his  hand  upon  the  table  with 
great  impressiveness  —  "  he  saith,  and  sweareth  by  it,  that 
the  earth  revolveth  on  an  axis,  like  an  orange  twirled  on  a 
skewer ! " 

"  Holy  San  Miguel !  "  exclaimed  Cristoval. 

Pedro  nodded  with  solemnity.  "  And  what  is  more  — 
not  to  say  worse."  he  continued,  "  he  holdeth  that  the  earth 
circleth  about  the  sun !  " 

"  Gods ! "  said  Cristoval,  with  redoubled  incredulity. 

Pedro  nodded  again,  then  shook  his  head.  "  This," 
said  he,  "  is  a  pagan  teaching,  and  Jose  were  better  without 
it.  'T  was  held  by  Pythagoras,  by  Philolaus,  by  Hicetas, 
and  later  by  Cicero.  Saith  Cicero  of  Hicetas, '  Hicetus  Syra- 
casius,  ut  ait  Theophrasttts,  coelum,  solem,  lunam,  stellas, '  —  " 

Cristoval  brought  his  fist  down  upon  the  table  with  a 
crash :  "  Ten  thousand  demons  and  goblins,  man !  Be 
done!  Hath  the  day  not  been  trying  enough  without  thy 
jabbering?  Contain  thy  Latin,  or  I  '11  forget  thy  good 
ness  !  "  He  glowered  at  the  cook,  who  smiled  blandly. 

"  It  is  of  no  importance,  amigo"  said  he.  "  Let  it  pass. 
I  was  but  going  to  say  that  Jose  hath  pagan  beliefs.  But 
what  is  more  serious,  Cristoval,  Fray  Mauricio  seemeth  to 
have  suspicion  of  them,  and  some  knowledge  of  the  ar 
morer's  past.  Once  he  questioned  me.  I  evaded  a  direct 
reply." 

"  Thou  didst,  Pedro !    How?  " 

"  Why,  I  asked  him  if  he  had  ever  tried  swallowing 
toasted  rags  for  his  liver." 

"  Ho !  "  blurted  Cristoval,  and  Pedro  grew  red  from  a 
fit  of  wheezy  laughter  until  his  chair  creaked  accompani 
ment. 

"  Didst  ever  take  a  setting  hen  from  her  nest  and  hold 
her  under  a  pump,  Cristoval,  then  release  her?  " 


CAVALIER   AND    CANTINERO  75 

"  Name  of  a  saint !  Of  course  I  never  did,  thou  unac 
countable  cook !  Why  should  I  ?  " 

"  Only  to  observe  her  state  of  mind  —  her  indignation. 
Make  trial  of  it  some  day,  and  thou  'It  have  Mauricio 
when  he  gave  over  questioning.  Unctuous  knave!  Stew 
me !  He  should  have  no  word  from  me  against  Jose,  were 
I  put  to  the  rack  for  it ! " 

Pedro  resumed  his  supper,  and  Cristoval  studied  him 
for  a  time  with  interest.  At  last  he  said  abruptly :  "  Pedro, 
thou  'rt  an  uncommon  man  —  a  most  singular  and  unex 
ampled  cook,  by  the  faith !  How  comest  thou  by  thy  learn 
ing —  thy  Latin  and  curious  lore?  And  having  these,  how 
comest  thou  a  cook?  What  the  fiend  doth  a  cook  with 
Pythagoras,  and  Cicero,  and  Caesar?" 

Pedro  flushed,  and  leaned  back,  regarding  the  cava 
lier  soberly.  "  Why,  Cristoval,"  he  said  slowly,  "  't  is  a 
long  story  —  and  one  I  do  not  tell." 

"  Oh,  thy  pardon,  Pedro !  I  thought  not  to  pry, 
believe  me !  Prithee,  forget  that  I  asked ! " 

"  Nay !  "  said  Pedro,  reflectively.  "  It  is  natural,  and 
I  begrudge  thee  not  an  answer."  He  turned  to  his  boy, 
who  was  sitting  near :  "  Pedrillo,  seek  the  sergeant  of  the 
guard,  and  ask  him  to  explain  to  thee  the  theory  of  fortifica 
tions.  Thou  mayest  some  day  find  it  useful."  Pedrillo's 
chin  dropped,  and  he  retired  slowly.  Pedro  continued :  "  It 
is  a  long  story,  Cristoval,  but  I  will  make  it  brief.  —  I  was 
not  always  a  cook,  as  I  have  said  to  thee  before.  I  —  I  have 
a  name.  It  is  not  Pedro.  I  am  Luis  de  Cardenas  —  of  a 
family  as  ancient  as  thine,  Peralta.  Bien  I  I  am  a  younger 
son,  and,  if  thou  wilt,  an  indigno — a  worthless  one.  I  was 
intended  for  the  priesthood,  and  partly  prepared  for  it.  It 
was  a  mistake.  I  studied  by  day  to  the  satisfaction  of  my 
instructors,  but  one  night  they  found  my  bed  arranged 
with  the  pillows  lengthwise  in  a  simulacrum  of  my  form. 
I  was  elsewhere.  Thus  they  found  it  the  next  night,  and 


76  THE   CRIMSON    CONQUEST 

many  following.  I  had  learned  to  scale  a  wall,  to  sing  a 
serenade,  and  mount  to  a  balcony  in  a  most  unclerical  way, 
Cristoval.  My  superiors  held  council.  I  was  disciplined. 
Grew  weary  of  bread-and-water,  and  escaped.  Followed  a 
regiment,  and  became  a  soldier.  Was  disowned  by  my 
family.  Lost  a  leg  at  Pavia.  Could  soldier  no  longer,  and 
so  turned  cantinero — sutler.  Came  across  the  sea,  first 
to  Cuba,  then  heard  of  Peru,  and  here  I  am  —  no  priest, 
no  soldier,  and  only  five-sevenths  of  a  cook.  'T  is  all.  I  am 
Pedro,  el  codnero —  Pedro,  the  cook.  Know  me  thus,  amigo 
and  not  otherwise."  Pedro  sighed  almost  inaudibly,  and 
toyed  with  his  knife.  Cristoval  extended  his  hand. 

"  I  thank  thee  for  thy  confidence,"  he  said  gravely. 
"  Thy  name  shall  not  pass  me,  but  I  am  glad  to  know  it. 
Thou  hast  been  a  friend,  and  if  thou  'It  believe  me,  hast 
made  one." 

Pedro  accepted  the  hand  without  a  word.  Cristoval 
poured  the  chicha,  they  touched  their  cups  and  drank. 
After  that,  little  was  said,  and,  the  supper  finished,  Pedro 
arose.  "  Now,"  said  he,  "  I  must  go.  I  have  been  made 
lord  chamberlain  to  the  Inca  until  he  shall  be  better  pro 
vided,  and  must  be  up  betimes.  Adtos,  Cristoval." 

"  Wait !  "  said  Cristoval.  "  I  will  escort  thee,  my  Lord 
Chamberlain.  I  Ve  need  to  go  to  my  quarters." 

"  It  will  be  a  knightly  courtesy,"  answered  Pedro,  "  for 
I  have  no  gizzard  in  me  for  crossing  that  square  unat 
tended.  Not  that  I  am  afraid,  look  thou,  Cristoval;  but 
that  boy  is  as  whole-souled  a  coward  as  ever  looked  behind 
in  the  dark,  and  he  maketh  me  nervous  with  his  gasps  and 
snorts.  I  have  no  superstition,  but  they  do  say  that  the 
souls  of  infidels  wander  in  eternal  restlessness." 

"  The  souls  of  all  men  dead  by  violence  wander  until 
masses  be  said  in  their  behalf,"  replied  Cristoval,  "  and 
hence  the  souls  of  infidels  must  wander  eternally.  But 
have  no  uneasiness,  amigo.  Ghosts  fear  a  sword  as  a  live 


77 

Italian  the  evil  eye,  and  dread  the  sign  of  the  cross  even 
more.    Come ! " 

They  set  out  with  Pedrillo  carrying  a  lantern,  and 
took  a  street  leading  toward  the  plaza.  Just  before  they 
reached  it  Cristoval  halted  at  a  small  door  and  pushed  it 
open.  "  Come  this  way,  Pedro,"  he  said,  "  and  we  can 
avoid  the  barricade  of  dead  at  the  end  of  the  street." 

"  Heaven  be  praised !  "  responded  Pedro.  "  On  my 
way  to  the  guard-house  I  thought  never  to  pass  it  with  my 
heart  in  my  body.  'T  is  not  as  if  these  people  were  slain  in 
battle,  Cristoval.  I  fear  not  a  battlefield." 

"  This  is  thrice  more  grewsome,"  assented  Cristoval. 
"But  come!  Enter!" 

"  Thou  first,  prithee,  my  friend !  'T  is  villanously 
dark  —  and  thou  hast  two  good  legs  for  running !  " 

"Bien  I  Then  follow !  "  and  Cristoval  entered  the  build 
ing.  The  door  opened  into  a  passage  leading  to  the  patio. 
They  traversed  the  latter,  and  crossing  an  apartment, 
found  themselves  at  the  doors  opening  upon  the  plaza. 
Cristoval  swung  one  of  them  open.  Pedro  took  a  step  for 
ward,  then  recoiled  with  a  suddenness  that  sent  a  quick 
chill  down  the  back  of  the  redoubtable  Cristoval,  who  was 
not  without  dread  of  the  supernatural. 

"Notnbre  cfe  Diosl  What  is  that?  "  gasped  the  cook, 
peering  out  into  the  darkness  and  clutching  his  com 
panion's  arm. 

"What  is  what?    Where?"  demanded  Cristoval. 

"  There  —  in  the  plaza !  "  whispered  Pedro,  making 
signs  of  the  cross  by  the  score. 

The  place  was  faintly  illumined  by  the  starlight.  On 
the  farther  side  the  buildings  rose  dim  and  silent.  Be 
tween,  the  area  was  ridged  and  strewn  with  formless  heaps, 
from  which  rose  the  moans  and  low  wails  of  anguish  of  the 
few  unfortunates  to  whom  merciful  death  had  not  come. 
For  a  moment  Cristoval  failed  to  perceive  a  cause  for 


78  THE   CRIMSON    CONQUEST 

Pedro's  sudden  fear.  But  while  he  looked  a  vague  form 
rose  from  among  the  shadows,  moved  forward  a  few  skulk 
ing  paces,  stooped,  and  was  occupied  with  something  on 
the  ground.  Farther  away,  Cristoval  saw  another,  then  a 
third  and  a  fourth,  slinking  and  bending  over  the  fallen 
Peruvians,  and  their  occupation  came  to  him  in  a  flash. 
They  were  robbers  of  the  dead  —  foul  carrion-birds  whose 
greed  even  the  satiety  and  weariness  of  the  day's  slaughter 
could  not  restrain.  With  an  exclamation  of  disgust  and 
rage  Cristoval  went  quickly  forward,  unnoticed  by  the 
ghoul,  who,  knife  in  hand,  was  tearing  at  the  precious  deco 
rations  of  the  victims.  As  Cristoval  approached,  he  heard 
a  groan,  then  a  faint,  pleading  voice,  and  saw  the  knife 
raised  to  silence  it.  He  was  upon  the  murderous  soldier  at 
a  bound,  and  his  hand  closed  upon  the  uplifted  arm.  The 
startled  soldier  turned  with  an  oath,  seized  the  knife  in  his 
free  hand,  and  struck  savagely  at  his  captor,  the  blow  ring 
ing  harmless  upon  the  latter's  corselet.  Before  he  could 
strike  again  Cristoval's  mailed  fist  crashed  into  his  face, 
and  he  rolled  senseless  upon  the  pavement.  His  compan 
ions  heard  the  disturbance,  and  hurried  to  aid  their  mate. 
They  drew  at  once,  and  fell  upon  the  disturber  of  their 
hideous  business  with  one  accord.  Cristoval  drove  among, 
them  with  his  sword,  and  the  sudden  clash  of  their 
weapons  resounded  in  the  square.  They  gave  way  before 
his  first  rush,  but  closed  round  him  immediately,  bent 
upon  his  death,  when  Pedro,  perceiving  that  they  were 
not  unearthly  and  that  his  friend  was  in  danger,  charged, 
stumping  across  the  intervening  ground,  sword  in  hand, 
awakening  the  night  with  vehement  imprecations.  Mean 
while  Pedrillo  had  likewise  found  his  voice,  and  was 
clamoring  at  its  highest  pitch :  "  The  guard !  Ho,  the 
guard !  The  guard !  Santiago  a  nosotros  !  The  guard !  " 

Doors  flew  open,  and  half-asleep  soldiers  broke  into 
the  square.    Lanterns  flitted,  an  arquebusier  on  the  redoubt 


79 

fired  his  piece,  and  in  a  moment  the  town  was  roused.  The 
ghouls  promptly  saw  their  danger,  and  fled.  The  encoun 
ter  had  been  of  brief  duration,  but  one  of  them  was  badly 
bitten  by  Cristoval's  point,  and  another  bleeding  from  a 
cut  by  Pedro,  who  had  himself  received  a  scratch  outside 
his  ribs.  In  a  moment  an  excited  crowd  had  gathered,  and 
presently  Pizarro  came  up. 

"  What  now?  "  he  demanded.  "  Another  affray?  By 
the  faith,  our  brawling  will  not  cease  until  I  have  made  an 
example  to  be  remembered!  Who  is  this?  "  He  snatched 
a  lantern  from  a  soldier  and  held  it  to  Cristoval's  face. 
"What!  Thou  again,  Peralta  —  and  wiping  thy  sword? 
And  who  is  this  behind  thee?  Thou,  Pedro?  " 

"  Ah !  Pedro !  "  replied  the  latter,  smarting  from  his 
wound.  "  A  cook !  A  punctured  cook,  and  no  less !  Here, 
you  pikeman,  help  me  to  peel  my  doublet,  for  I  have  a  hurt 
— wlrutsculum  in  latere  —  a  little  one  in  the  side;  —  neque 
acu  pundttm  —  not  a  needle-prick,  I  '11  swear ;  —  and  damn 
the  man  who  made  it !  " 

Pizarro  turned  away  impatiently,  irritated  by  the 
cook's  garrulity.  "  Explain  this  matter,  Peralta !  "  he  com 
manded  sharply.  Cristoval  explained  in  a  few  words. 

"  Soto,  have  the  companies  formed !  "  ordered  Pizarro. 
"  We  will  learn  who  is  out.  Some  of  these  dogs  are  plun 
dering  for  themselves.  It  shall  go  hard  with  them !  Per 
alta,  I  will  send  thee  an  additional  detail.  Post  sentinels 
about  the  square  until  daylight.  —  Ha !  Whom  have  we 
here?  " 

The  man  who  had  struck  at  Cristoval  had  regained  his 
senses  and  was  sitting  up,  spitting  out  teeth. 

"  He  is  one  of  them,  General,"  remarked  Cristoval. 

A  soldier  jerked  him  to  his  feet.  "  Put  him  in  double 
irons ! "  commanded  Pizarro,  and  walked  away. 

The  call  was  blowing  for  assembly,  and  the  crowd  of 
soldiers  dispersed.  Cristoval  gave  his  attention  to  Pedro, 


80  THE   CRIMSON    CONQUEST 

who  was  already  being  examined  by  Jose.  He  found  the 
wound  slight,  and  it  was  soon  bandaged.  Cristoval  set 
about  searching  for  the  injured  Peruvian  whom  he  had 
saved  from  the  soldier's  knife.  He  found  him  presently, 
and  called  to  Jose,  who  had  a  lantern.  The  three  gathered 
round  him. 

"  Look  him  over,  Jose,"  said  Cristoval.  "  He  is  badly 
hurt,  I  think  —  and  a  youth !  " 

"  A  noble!  "  exclaimed  Pedro,  inspecting  him.  "Santa 
Maria!  The  gold  on  his  tunic,  and  in  his  ears!  Our  friend 
whom  thou  gavest  a  sore  face  would  have  found  him  rich 
scraping,  Cristoval." 

"  Ah !  "  assented  Cristoval.  "  Now,  let  us  get  him  out 
of  this.  Take  thou  the  lantern,  Pedro.  Jose,  help  me  with 
him  to  my  quarters." 

The  wounded  Peruvian  was  carried  from  the  square. 
They  laid  him  upon  Cristoval's  couch,  and  leaving  him  in 
Jose's  care,  the  former  went  about  his  duties.  About  dawn 
he  returned  and  found  the  Indio  fully  conscious,  with  his 
wounds  bandaged.  Cristoval  greeted  him  in  a  few  words 
of  Quichua.  The  young  noble  started  at  the  sound,  and  re 
garding  the  cavalier  eagerly,  demanded :  — 

"  Do  you  speak  my  tongue,  Viracocha?  Then,  in  the 
name  of  the  great  luminary  who  shineth  upon  us  both,  tell 
me  what  hath  become  of  my  brother,  the  Inca !  " 

"  Thy  brother?  "  exclaimed  Cristoval.  "  God  save  us! 
Thy  brother  —  if  thou  meanest  the  Inca  —  is  alive  and 
unharmed." 

"  Oh,  thou  great  God,  I  thank  thee !  "  murmured  the 
Indio  fervently,  and  closed  his  eyes,  overcome.  Presently, 
looking  up  again,  he  asked,  "Is  he  free,  Viracocha?" 

Cristoval  shook  his  head.    "  Not  free." 

"  Not  free !  —  a  prisoner !  "  cried  the  wounded  youth, 
weakly.  He  raised  his  hands,  trembling  with  grief:  "  Oh, 
Woe,  woe !  My  country,  what  weight  of  sorrow  hath  fallen 


8i 

upon  thee ! "  He  buried  his  head  in  his  arms  and  lay  in 
silence.  Cristoval  was  about  to  leave  when  he  spoke  again, 
his  voice  steady  once  more,  and  all  trace  of  feeling  banished 
from  his  countenance :  — 

"  Viracocha,  you  have  shown  me  mercy.  You  have 
saved  my  life.  Let  me  beg  one  more  favor.  Will  you  say 
to  the  Inca  that  Toparca  sendeth  his  affectionate  greeting 
and  sympathy ;  and  that  if  it  is  permitted  he  will  share  his 
imprisonment  and  minister  to  his  wants  —  that  he  will 
share  his  fate,  whatever  it  be?  " 

"  Willingly,"  replied  Cristoval,  and  desirous  of  ending 
the  interview,  he  spoke  a  few  words  of  assurance  and  re 
turned  to  his  post. 


CHAPTER  VIII 
An  Arm  of  the  Inquisition 

THE  day  following  was  one  of  activity.  The  first 
task  was  to  clear  the  square.  The  hundreds  of 
prisoners  herded  in  one  of  the  buildings  were  set 
at  the  work,  noble  toiling  beside  common  without 
distinction  or  favor.  Not  even  Indian  stoicism  was  proof 
against  the  calamity,  and  old  men,  scarred  from  a  hundred 
battles,  worked  with  streaming  eyes,  dragging  forth  the 
bodies  of  their  friends  to  be  stripped  of  their  ornaments  by 
the  Spaniards  and  borne  away  for  indiscriminate  burial. 

Hernando  Pizarro  was  sent  with  his  troop  to  the 
Peruvian  camp  to  break  up  whatever  force  might  be  linger 
ing  there,  and  to  plunder  the  Inca's  residence.  Toward 
midday  his  return  was  announced  by  a  sentinel,  and  Cristo- 
val  formed  his  guard.  The  troop  entered  the  town  with  a 
flourish  of  trumpets.  Its  leading  platoon  was  followed  by 
a  long  procession  of  captives  laden  with  spoils,  of  hamacas 
bearing  the  women  of  the  court,  of  disarmed  warriors,  and 
of  townspeople  who  had  been  removed  from  Caxamalca  at 
the  approach  of  the  Spaniards.  The  men,  stupefied  by 
what  had  befallen,  marched  in  stolid  indifference.  But  the 
women,  dishevelled,  wild-visaged,  and  dreading  all  things 
for  themselves  and  the  children  in  their  arms  or  clinging 
to  their  robes,  filled  the  air  with  their  wailing  and  frantic 
lamentations,  until  securely  housed  in  the  buildings  on  the 
square. 

Late  in  the  afternoon  an  orderly  summoned  Cristoval 


AN    ARM    OF   THE   INQUISITION         83 

to  a  council  of  the  officers  at  Pizarro's  headquarters.  He 
picked  up  Candia  on  his  way,  and  the  two  were  the  first  to 
arrive.  They  found  Pizarro  watching  the  <veedor  at  work 
appraising  the  plunder  brought  from  the  Inca's  villa  and 
taken  from  the  bodies  of  the  Indian  nobles.  The  com 
mander's  face  was  haggard,  and  he  looked  years  older.  He 
greeted  the  two  officers  cordially  and  said,  pointing  to  the 
table  on  which  were  heaped  the  spoils :  — 

"  The  first  fruits,  camaradas !  We  have  come  to  the 
harvest  season  at  last.  Not  a  bad  wage  for  one  day's 
work!  What  say  you?" 

Cristoval  looked  with  astonishment  at  the  wealth 
stacked  upon  the  stone  table  on  which  the  <veedor,  or  inspec 
tor,  had  set  his  scales.  In  the  middle  was  the  chair  of  the 
Inca,  a  fortune  in  itself,  and  heaped  around  it  the  royal 
table  service  of  gold  and  silver.  On  one  of  the  plates  was 
a  little  mound  of  emeralds,  some  of  them  of  unusual  size 
and  brilliancy,  and  near  by,  a  disorderly  heap  of  the  per 
sonal  ornaments  taken  from  the  slain.  On  the  floor  were 
piled  rugs,  furs,  embroidered  tapestries,  and  fabrics  of 
finest  weave  and  dye. 

The  <veedor  ceased  his  work  as  he  arose  and  walked 
round  the  table.  He  was  a  fat,  puffing,  putty-colored  indi 
vidual  of  fifty  years,  with  a  peculiar  falsetto  voice  and  a 
habit  of  perpetually  snuffling.  Now  his  bulging  eyes  were 
more  bulging  than  ever  in  their  greedy  leer.  "  Ah,  look 
upon  it,  gentlemen !  "  he  exclaimed,  rubbing  his  hands. 
"  Behold  it !  Satiate  your  eyes !  Let  them  revel,  my 
friends!  Is  it  not  a  feast?  Delicious!  Delicious!  Look 
at  these  plates !  —  gold  —  solid  gold !  And  these  goblets  — 
silver!  And  these  precious  stones  —  ah!"  He  dug  his 
hands  into  the  heap  of  emeralds  and  let  them  sift  through 
his  fat  fingers,  his  head  on  one  side,  fairly  drooling  with 
delight,  while  he  screwed  his  face  into  so  gross  and  atro 
cious  a  smirk  that  Cristoval  looked  away  with  an  oath 


under  his  breath.  The  <veedor  snuffled  and  went  on :  "  And 
see  these  gewgaws  —  stripped  from  the  heathen !  Oh,  my 
soul  and  body,  what  pickings!  They  are  bloody  yet,  but 
how  they  '11  shine  when  they  are  clean !  They  '11  weigh 
too.  Eh,  Pizarro?  —  Treasure,  treasure,  compadresJ  The 
reward  of  our  courage!  A  fitting  reward  of  gallantry! 
We'll  divide  it  by-and-by  —  we'll  all  have  some!  But 
stay,  my  friend  Cristoval,  thou  didst  not  fight !  What  shall 
we  do  about  Cristoval's  share,  General?  We  all  know  he 
did  not  fight.  Of  course,  nobody  would  question  his  cour 
age  —  but  there  are  so  many  brave  fellows  to  provide  for, 
and  after  all  there  is  not  so  very  much  to  divide." 

He  turned  to  Pizarro,  puffing  out  his  cheeks  and  wiping 
from  his  forehead  the  perspiration  started  by  his  emotion 
over  the  treasure.  Cristoval  had  listened  with  disgust, 
hardly  able  to  restrain  his  hands  from  gripping  the  fat 
throat.  The  slurring  reference  to  his  inactivity  in  the 
massacre  roused  his  ire,  and  the  veedor  encountered  a  scowl 
so  black  that  he  started  back  with  a  gasp  and  shuffled 
precipitately  behind  the  table. 

"  Pizarro !  Pizarro !  "  he  cried,  his  peculiar  falsetto 
rising  to  a  squeak.  "  That  man  meditateth  violence !  He 
contemplateth  doing  me  an  injury!  I  see  it  in  his  eyes! 
Restrain  him,  Pizarro !  I  am  an  officer  of  the  Crown,  and 
call  upon  you  to  protect  me  with  your  sword.  I  have  a 
wife  and  five  small  —  " 

"  Be  done,  Rogelio ! "  commanded  Pizarro,  who  had 
small  liking  for  the  timorous  member  of  his  civil  staff. 
"  Thou  talkest  too  much.  Learn  to  hold  thy  tongue. 
Come !  Get  back  to  thy  work,  and  I  '11  vouch  for  thy 
safety." 

"  I  am  a  civilian,  and  a  man  of  peace,"  piped  iheveedor, 
rolling  his  colorless  eyes  at  Cristoval.  "  I  am  an  officer  of 
the  Crown,  and  I  want  it  understood,  Pizarro,  that  I  '11 
accept  no  challenges.  He  may  meditate  a  challenge." 


AN   ARM    OF   THE   INQUISITION         85 

"  I  think  thou  doest  him  injustice,"  replied  Pizarro, 
with  sarcasm.  "  Thou  'rt  safe.  Now  return  to  thy  work." 

Cristoval  had  turned  his  back  with  a  snort  of  contempt, 
and  Rogelio  resumed  his  weighing  and  figuring,  his  fear 
gradually  giving  place  to  malicious  glances  directed  to 
ward  the  back  of  the  stout  cavalier. 

Jose  entered,  and  Pizarro  hailed  him. 

"  Hola,  Jose !  Thou  'rt  in  good  season.  I  have  been 
hearing  of  thee  from  Fray  Mauricio.  Dost  know  that  he 
hath  denounced  thee  as  a  heretic?  " 

"  He  promised  so  to  do,  General." 

"  A  serious  charge,  Jose !  It  would  bring  thee  trouble 
were  we  at  home,  and  might  do  so  here,  had  I  less  author 
ity.  The  friar  saith  thou  didst  utter  blasphemies  enough 
to  bring  thee  before  the  Holy  Office.  Many  a  man  hath 
gone  to  the  stake  for  less." 

The  old  armorer's  dark  eyes  glowed,  and  he  replied 
bluntly :  "  If  it  was  blasphemy  to  defend  the  Holy  Mother 
and  Santiago  from  the  charge  of  aiding  in  yesterday's 
butchery,  then  I  blasphemed,  and  would  blaspheme  again ; 
for  I  tell  you,  Pizarro,  the  work  of  your  men  was  naught 
less  than  hellish." 

"  Have  a  care,  old  man ! "  said  Pizarro,  with  a  scowl. 
"  Thy  words  are  more  dangerous  than  blasphemies.  Im 
peril  thy  soul  if  it  please  thee;  but  understand  that,  by 
Heaven,  I  '11  brook  no  criticism !  " 

There  was  no  flinching  in  Jose  as  he  met  the  threat  in 
Pizarro's  words  and  look,  and  he  answered  hotly,  "  Then  let 
me  not  be  put  to  a  defence  of  my  words  to  Fray  Mauricio." 

De  Soto  and  other  officers  had  entered,  followed  by 
the  friar,  unobserved  and  in  time  to  catch  Jose's  challenge. 
The  monk  moved  quickly  forward  and  confronted  the 
armorer.  "  Thou  libeller !  Blasphemer !  Heretic !  What ! 
—  hath  the  Church  no  power  to  punish  such  as  thou? 
But  we  shall  see !  We  shall  see !  Officers,  seize  that  man ! 


86  THE   CRIMSON    CONQUEST 

General  Pizarro,  I  demand  his  arrest  in  the  name  of  the 
Congregation  of  the  Holy  Office !  " 

No  man  moved.  All  stood  for  a  moment  aghast  at  the 
friar's  invocation  of  the  dread  power  of  the  Inquisition. 
Its  very  name  carried  terror,  and  they  hated  it  as  much  as 
they  feared  its  wrath.  They  stared  in  silence  at  Fray  Mau- 
ricio,  but  Jose  alone  stood  unmoved.  He  faced  the  friar 
with  calm  scorn,  his  tall,  soldierly  figure  towering  above 
him  like  a  tree.  Cristoval  glanced  at  Pizarro  and  stepped 
to  Jose's  side.  De  Soto  and  others  followed,  and  the  group 
faced  the  Dominican.  The  commander's  irritation  at  the 
armorer's  criticism  was  smothered  in  resentment  of  the  in 
trusion  of  the  Inquisition  in  his  affairs,  already  difficult 
enough,  and  in  a  quick  detestation  of  Mauricio  as  its 
avowed  agent. 

"  My  good  brother,"  said  Pizarro,  coldly,  "  thou  hadst 
best  reconsider  thy  demand." 

"  Oppose  me  at  thy  peril,  Pizarro !  "  shouted  the  friar, 
whirling  upon  him  savagely.  "  Dost  thou  know  this  man? 
Dost  know  that  he  is  a  Morisco  —  this  unknown  who  call- 
eth  himself  Jose?  Doth  any  man  here  know  his  name?  " 

"  No  man  here  knoweth  my  name,  friar,"  interrupted 
Jose,  "  but  thou  shalt  have  it !  I  am  Abul  Hassan  Zegri  — 
a  Moor.  My  father  was  Abul  Hassan  Zegri  —  a  Moor.  — 
And  now  hearken !  "  he  thundered,  approaching  the  monk 
at  a  stride  and  glaring  down  into  his  eyes  with  an  expres 
sion  that  chilled  his  blood.  "  Hearken !  If  thou  seekest 
more  of  me,  or  breathest  my  name  again  in  denunciation 
or  accusation,  to-day,  to-morrow,  or  twenty  years  hence, 
thou  diest  —  and  I  swear  it!  By  the  Almighty,  if  thou 
barest  thy  claws  again  at  me,  I  '11  not  spare  thee !  Now 
go !  Go !  —  or  I  '11  kill  thee  in  thy  tracks !  " 

Mauricio  hurriedly  retreated.  Jose  thrust  his  poniard 
back  into  its  sheath  with  a  snap  and  faced  the  officers. 
During  the  outburst  they  had  stood  petrified.  His  bold 


AN   ARM    OF   THE    INQUISITION         87 

declaration  that  he  was  a  Moor  —  one  of  a  people  which 
had  been  proscribed  and  driven  from  Spain  with  every 
form  of  persecution,  outrage,  and  cruelty  that  hatred  of 
their  race  and  greed  of  their  wealth  could  inspire  —  stag 
gered  even  Cristoval.  The  others  had  been  too  much  as 
tounded,  and  even  horror-stricken  by  his  rash  defiance  and 
arraignment  of  the  Inquisition  to  interfere  in  behalf  of  the 
friar  had  they  been  so  inclined.  Jose  looked  from  one  to 
another  for  a  moment  with  all  the  pride  and  fierceness  of 
his  race  now  aroused  and  burning  in  his  defiant  eyes. 

"  Senores,"  he  said,  "  ye  have  heard  my  name.  There 
may  be  one  among  you  who  liketh  not  the  sound  of  it,  or 
who  would  question  me  further.  If  there  be  such  a  one, 
I  will  give  him  answer  on  horse  or  on  foot." 

"  Nay,  nay,  Jose ! "  cried  Cristoval,  advancing  and 
grasping  his  hand.  "  None  of  us  will  quarrel  with  thy 
name.  Thou  'it  a  gallant  comrade  and  honest  gentleman. 
That  sufficeth.  If  any  man  here  would  dispute  it,  he  hath 
affair  with  me !  " 

"  And  with  me!  "  added  De  Soto,  with  emphasis.  "  I 
believe,  on  my  soul,  thou  'rt  a  good  Christian,  Abul  Hassan 
Zegri,  whatever  thy  blood.  Thou  may'st  count  Hernando 
de  Soto  one  of  thy  friends." 

Hernando  Pizarro  and  others  joined  in  their  protesta 
tion  of  friendship,  but  the  rest  hung  back,  fearing  the 
danger  involved  in  adhering  to  a  man  under  ban  of  the 
Inquisition.  Mendoza's  muttered  "  Morisco  infiell  "  was 
taken  up,  but  the  group  around  Jose  was  too  formidable  to 
encourage  open  hostility,  and  the  rest  stood  sullenly  apart. 

It  was  noticed  by  the  commander,  who  said  briefly: 
"  There  shall  be  no  quarrel  about  Jose,  nor  with  him.  — 
Jose,  or  Abul  Hassan  Zegri,  or  whoever  thou  art,  thou  'rt 
among  friends.  Thou  hast  been  a  stanch  companion,  and 
whilst  I  have  power  no  hand  shall  be  raised  against  thee. 
But  guard  thy  tongue,  and  beware  throwing  nettles  to  the 


88  THE   CRIMSON    CONQUEST 

clergy.  We  are  far  from  Seville,  but  the  Inquisition  hath 
long  arms,  as  men  have  learned  before.  But  —  thou  'rt  not 
an  infidel?" 

"  I  am  a  Christian,"  responded  the  armorer  with 
dignity. 

"  That  answereth  every  question  thou  shalt  be  asked. 
Senores,  this  affair  is  mine.  It  endeth  here."  He  glanced 
significantly  at  the  lowering  group  around  Mendoza,  then, 
after  a  pause :  "  Now,  to  the  business  for  which  I  have 
called  you  together.  These  are  my  orders,  and  ye  will  see 
them  carried  out  to  the  letter.  The  captives  shall  be  re 
leased  and  go  unmolested.  A  sufficient  number  shall  be 
retained  as  hostages  and  for  such  services  as  may  be  re 
quired.  The  Inca  shall  be  established  with  his  wives  and 
household,  and  shall  have  every  privilege  and  liberty  con 
sistent  with  security.  His  nobles  and  people  are  to  be  ad 
mitted  to  him  without  hindrance,  and  for  the  present  he 
shall  be  allowed  to  conduct  the  affairs  of  the  empire  — 
with  our  guidance  and  counsel  when  it  seemeth  expedient. 
The  nobles  shall  be  treated  as  befitteth  their  rank,  and 
we  '11  have  no  violence  offered  any  man  or  woman,  noble 
or  other.  Ye  will  make  this  understood  among  the  men 
and  see  it  enforced.  Thus  far  our  arms  have  been  blessed 
with  success,  but  for  the  future  as  much  dependeth  upon 
discretion  as  upon  courage.  Be  prudent,  therefore,  as  vigi 
lant,  and  vigilant  as  ye  have  been  resolute. 

"  One  word  more :  To-morrow  I  send  a  messenger  to 
San  Miguel,  and  with  him  goeth  Fray  Mauricio.  That 
is  all,  Senores.  Adibs." 


CHAPTER   IX 
Cristoval  Meets  the  Princess 

THERE   was   a   building    fronting    on    the   plaza 
which,  from  the  great  sculptured  serpent  on  its 
wall,   became  known  to  the   Spaniards  as   the 
House  of  the   Serpent.     Plain  and  massive   in 
its  architecture  as  the  others,  it  covered,  in  a  rambling 
fashion,  a  large  extent  of  ground.    By  chance  the  invaders 
had  left  it  untouched  until  opened  for  the  Inca  and  his 
suite.    Being  an  old  Incarial  palace,  Atahualpa  requested 
that  he  be  quartered  there.    This  was  readily  granted,  and 
Pizarro,  to  be  near  his  prisoner,  moved  into  the  building 
himself. 

That  part  of  it  abutting  on  the  square  was  ancient,  but 
in  later  years  it  had  been  added  to  from  time  to  time  until 
it  could  house  five  or  six  score  people.  It  extended  back  a 
hundred  yards  or  more,  enclosing  one  large  and  two  smaller 
courts  from  which  entrance  was  given  to  the  various 
apartments.  In  the  rear  was  a  park  filled  with  trees  and 
shrubbery,  and  surrounded  by  a  high  wall  of  stone  and 
adobe.  Since  the  erection  of  the  villa  near  the  mineral 
springs  the  palace  had  been  disused,  and  the  garden  neg 
lected;  but  it  retained  its  beauty,  enhanced,  perhaps,  by 
its  touch  of  wildness.  The  fountains  still  playing  in  its 
shade  were  green  with  moss,  the  walks  overgrown  with 
grass,  and  wild  flowers  had  invaded  the  lawns,  as  if  Nature 
had  gently  striven  against  its  artificiality.  The  melancholy 
of  decay  had  entered  the  enclosure  as  in  preparation  to 


go  THE    CRIMSON    CONQUEST 

greet  the  fallen  fortune  of  the  royal  prisoner,  fated  to  spend 
many  a  moody  hour  pacing  its  walks  and  chafing  in  his 
bondage. 

Whatever  depth  of  hatred  the  Inca  cherished  toward 
his  captors,  however  burning  his  thirst  for  revenge,  no  sign 
betrayed  them.  The  bitterness  of  captivity  must  have 
sunk  into  his  proud  heart,  but  it  lay  hidden  beneath  un 
varying  dignity  and  calm.  With  strength  and  patience 
which  rose  above  disaster  and  compelled  the  admiration  of 
the  Spaniards,  he  took  up  the  affairs  of  his  stricken  coun 
try,  and  with  masterly  readiness  stayed  the  demoralization 
already  sweeping  over  his  empire  like  a  tidal  wave.  With 
the  few  nobles  left  him  he  held  his  councils.  Fleet  chas- 
qttis  were  despatched  to  the  farthest  confines  of  his  domin 
ions,  bearing  assurances  of  his  safety,  enjoining  peace,  and 
summoning  his  trusted  advisers. 

Meanwhile,  everything  practicable  was  done  to  miti 
gate  the  hardship  of  his  captivity.  The  blue-uniformed 
guard  in  the  anteroom  had  given  place  to  a  detail  of  steel- 
accoutred  Spaniards,  and  sentinels  were  in  evidence  out 
side  the  palace  walls,  but  the  monarch  saw  little  of  them. 
Even  the  officers  did  not  intrude  upon  his  privacy ;  though 
later  he  found  pleasure,  or  at  least  interest,  in  the  society 
of  certain  of  them  and  invited  them  often.  He  gave  daily 
audience  to  his  people,  who  were  admitted  freely  to  his 
presence.  They  found  him  still  wearing  the  llautu  and  pos 
sessing  the  semblance  —  to  all  immediate  intents  and  pur 
poses  the  actuality  —  of  his  imperial  power.  They  were 
commanded  by  him  to  be  acquiescent  to  the  strangers,  by 
whom  they  were  treated  with  due  consideration,  and  went 
away  reassured. 

The  soldiers  were  now  removed  from  the  temporary 
barracks  and  assigned  to  quarters  in  the  houses,  largely 
left  vacant  by  townspeople  who  availed  themselves  of  the 
privilege  of  leaving  Caxamalca.  Cristoval,  with  De  Soto, 


took  a  dwelling  not  far  from  the  palace.  He  dismissed 
most  of  the  Indies  placed  at  his  service,  and  assigned  a 
suitable  number  to  the  wounded  Toparca,  whom  he  left  in 
his  old  quarters  on  the  square. 

The  prince  was  mending  rapidly  under  Jose's  skill, 
but  was  still  unable  to  rise.  Cristoval  visited  him  daily, 
thereby  improving  his  knowledge  of  Quichua  and  acquir 
ing  information  about  the  country.  As  their  acquaintance 
ripened  he  found  the  noble  to  be  very  much  a  man,  and 
beneath  his  reserve  he  discovered  a  genuine  urbanity. 
Toparca,  on  his  part  influenced  by  gratitude,  increased  by 
Cristoval's  unfailing  thoughtfulness,  had  become  strongly 
attached  to  his  rescuer,  whose  friendship  he  regarded  as 
the  condescension  of  a  being  somewhat  more  than  human. 

Returning  late  one  afternoon  from  a  reconnaissance 
to  the  southward,  Cristoval  stopped  to  inquire  for  the 
prince.  He  entered  the  patio,  rapped  upon  the  half-open 
door,  and,  without  waiting  for  an  answer,  pushed  aside 
the  hangings  and  entered,  —  to  find  himself  confronted  by 
half-a-dozen  young  women.  He  recognized  them  at  once 
by  their  costume  as  attendants  at  the  palace.  The  sudden 
apparition  of  his  mailed  figure  threw  consternation  among 
the  damsels,  nearly  equalled  by  his  own  at  their  half- 
suppressed  scream.  Stammering  an  apology,  part  Spanish, 
part  Quichua,  he  bowed  and  was  hastily  retiring  when 
Toparca  called  from  his  couch :  — 

"  Wait,  Viracocha  Cristoval !  Do  not  go  before  I  have 
made  you  known  to  my  sister,  the  Nusta  Rava.  Tarry  a 
moment,  I  pray  you." 

The  princess  had  risen,  terrified  by  the  formidable 
man  in  steel,  whose  face  she  could  scarcely  discern  beneath 
his  lifted  visor.  To  her  unaccustomed  eyes  he  was  huge 
and  monstrous  —  a  direful,  enigmatic  being  from  another 
world,  of  a  race  prodigious  in  destructiveness,  unassailable 
and  irresistible  as  gods,  murderous  as  fiends.  The  sound 


92  THE    CRIMSON    CONQUEST 

of  his  approach  as  he  moved  toward  her,  the  clank  and 
harsh  rustle  of  his  accoutrements,  struck  dread  to  her 
heart.  Cristoval  perceived  her  trembling.  He  halted, 
hurriedly  unlatched  and  removed  his  helmet. 

"  I  trust  the  Nusta  Ra"va  will  forgive  me  for  appearing 
in  my  harness,"  he  said  in  Quichua  made  lame  by  his  em 
barrassment,  and  bowing  gravely ;  "  but  I  had  no  thought 
of  finding  any  one  here  but  my  Lord  Toparca.  With  her 
gracious  permission  I  will  retire." 

"  No,  no !  "  said  Toparca.  "  Let  me  present  you :  — 
Rava,  this  is  the  Viracocha  Cristoval,  who,  as  I  have  told 
thee,  rescued  me  from  death." 

Cristoval  made  a  low  obeisance,  but  the  princess  re 
coiled  from  him  in  undisguised  horror.  Toparca  saw  the 
movement  and  expression,  and  said  quickly :  "  Rava,  thou 
needst  have  no  fear.  I  beg  thou  wilt  know  the  Viracocha 
Cristoval  as  my  friend." 

"  Thy  friend,  Toparca?  "  she  exclaimed,  her  low  voice 
trembling.  "  Dost  think  that  I  can  look  upon  one  of  these 
as  the  friend  of  any  of  our  race?  The  blood-marks  have 
not  yet  vanished  from  the  square." 

Toparca  raised  himself  in  anxiety  to  exonerate  his 
benefactor.  "  But,  my  sister,"  he  said,  hurriedly,  "  the 
Viracocha  Cristoval  had  no  part  in  that." 

"  Had  no  part  in  it!  "  repeated  the  princess,  with  in 
credulous  scorn.  "  But  he  is  here,  an  invader !  His  part 
began  when  he  set  foot  upon  our  soil,  sword  in  hand.  Say 
not  that  he  had  no  part  in  it !  Doth  he  hold  himself  guilt 
less?  —  Can  you  hold  yourself  guiltless  of  that  blood,  Vira 
cocha?"  She  turned  upon  Cristoval,  her  dark  eyes  burn 
ing,  her  form  quivering  from  head  to  foot  with  the  bitter 
intensity  of  her  resentment.  "  Are  you  absolved  of  the  foul 
treachery  by  which  my  people  were  led  hither  to  their 
death?  Of  the  perfidy  that  lured  my  brother  into  the 
snare,  unarmed  and  unsuspecting?  You  have  had  no  part 


CRISTOVAL  MEETS  THE  PRINCESS     93 

in  all  this  ?  —  Oh,  Toparca,  canst  thou  call  one  of  these 
dreadful  beings  thy  friend  whilst  Tavantinsuyu  still  mourns 
her  dead?  He  had  been  more  worthy  the  name  had  he 
not  preserved  thee  to  witness  the  infinite  misfortunes  his 
people  have  brought  upon  our  unhappy  country !  He  had 
been  merciful  had  he  permitted  thee  to  perish  in  ignorance 
of  the  slavery  of  our  brothers  and  the  dishonor  of  our 
sisters.  Thy  friend,  my  brother?  Tell  me  sooner  thou  hast 
friends  among  the  vultures !  They,  at  least,  prey  not  upon 
the  living.  Farewell,  Toparca !  " 

The  princess  drew  her  cloak  about  her,  and  passing 
Cristoval  with  a  brief  glance  in  which  was  concentrated 
all  the  infuriate  enmity  that  a  woman,  raging  at  injury  and 
helpless  to  avenge  it,  can  feel  for  the  oppressor,  she  left 
the  apartment,  followed  by  her  frightened  maids. 

Cristoval  had  heard  her  in  silence.  No  doubt  his 
uppermost  feeling  was  compassion,  for  he  felt  the  heart 
break  beneath  her  denunciation.  He  knew  better  than  she 
how  well  her  indignation  was  justified,  and  was  thankful 
that  she  could  not  know  the  sordid  greed  back  of  the  in 
vasion.  Many  of  her  words  he  had* been  unable  to  catch, 
but  he  did  not  fail  to  get  her  meaning  clearly  enough,  for 
that  was  expressed  in  every  tone  and  gesture.  His  free 
dom  from  the  stains  of  the  massacre  had  made  him  proof 
against  much  of  her  reproach,  but  he  could  not  be  indiffer 
ent  to  her  hate  and  scorn.  Through  all  he  felt  her  beauty, 
somewhat  ferine  and  stormy  now,  he  thought,  but  still  of 
a  transcendent,  queenly  kind.  Altogether,  he  had  listened 
with  sympathy  quite  without  resentment;  so  that  when 
she  met  his  look  in  passing,  instead  of  the  rage  and  cruelty 
she  expected,  she  read  a  grave  pity  of  which  she  thought 
afterward;  and  in  place  of  the  stern,  perhaps  brutal  re 
joinder  she  looked  for,  a  bow  of  profound  respect  and 
deference. 

Cristoval  expressed  his  keen  regret  for  the  inopportune 


94  THE    CRIMSON    CONQUEST 

entry  which  had  sent  her  away  so  abruptly,  but  Toparca 
was  even  more  disturbed,  uncertain  of  the  effect  of  her 
anger  upon  the  Viracocha. 

"  I  hope  you  will  not  think  of  her  words,  Viracocha 
Cristoval,"  he  said,  anxiously.  "  The  princess  is  young, 
and  hath  already  known  much  grief.  She  will  learn  that 
there  are  generous  and  humane  hearts  —  " 

"Even  among  Spaniards!"  said  Cristoval,  with  a 
trace  of  bitterness  in  his  faint  smile.  "  I  trust  so,  my  Lord 
Toparca.  But  the  princess  hath  my  earnest  sympathy." 
Then  he  changed  the  subject  quickly,  and  soon  departed, 
giving  little  further  thought  to  the  Nusta  Rava. 

It  was  not  long  before  the  constraint  at  first  existing 
between  the  Inca  and  the  Spanish  officers  began  to  wear 
away  under  the  influence  of  the  uniform  courtesy  with 
which  he  was  treated,  partly  in  observance  of  Pizarro's 
strict  injunctions,  but  due  quite  as  much  to  the  innate 
stateliness  of  the  monarch  himself.  His  captors  soon 
learned  to  know  him  as  a  man  of  alert  intelligence,  eager 
for  knowledge  of  their  world.  As  the  months  dragged  on 
he  formed  several  friendships  with  them  which  went  far 
to  moderate  the  dreariness  of  captivity,  in  which  he  dis 
played  his  discrimination  of  human  character.  From  the 
first  he  was  attracted  by  De  Soto,  whose  superiority  over 
most  of  his  comrades  he  was  not  slow  to  recognize.  De 
Soto,  in  turn,  conceived  for  the  unfortunate  monarch  a 
deep  regard,  a  sentiment  shared  by  Hernando  Pizarro  and 
Candia. 

But  before  all  others  in  the  Inca's  esteem  was  Peralta. 
Atahualpa  had  not  forgotten  his  part  in  the  affair  on  the 
plaza,  and  his  gratitude  and  confidence  had  been  increased 
by  the  rescue  of  Toparca.  Thus  predisposed  in  Cristoval's 
favor,  the  cavalier's  growing  knowledge  of  the  Quichua 
dialect  made  their  acquaintance  of  easy  growth.  Cris 
toval's  wide  experience  as  a  soldier  appealed  vigorously  to 


CRISTOVAL    MEETS   THE   PRINCESS      95 

the  warlike  prince,  and  he  spent  many  hours  listening  to 
accounts  of  European  campaigns  and  methods. 

It  is  doubtful  if  the  monarch  had  ever,  since  his  youth, 
known  real  companionship  unconstrained  by  his  majesty. 
The  gulf  separating  him  from  his  most  exalted  subject  was 
immeasurable  and  not  to  be  bridged  by  any  human  feel 
ing.  As  far  as  friendship  was  concerned  he  was  alone, 
wearied  to  the  limits  of  endurance  by  the  perpetual  rev 
erence  and  awe  by  which  he  was  surrounded.  He  did  not 
undertake  to  exact,  did  not  want,  and  could  not  have  had 
from  the  Spaniards,  the  servile  homage  tendered  by  his 
subjects,  and  its  absence  was  a  relief.  They  treated  him 
as  a  royal  man,  not  as  a  Child  of  the  Sun,  and  he  was  grate 
ful.  It  is  not  to  be  supposed  that  they  were  always  tact 
ful,  that  they  never  overstepped  the  bounds  of  familiarity ; 
but  his  natural  dignity  protected  him,  and  it  occurred 
infrequently  —  with  Cristoval  never.  The  cavalier  was 
neither  presuming  nor  humble,  and  their  friendship 
prospered. 

For  the  Spanish  commander  the  Inca  never  acquired 
a  liking.  It  was  impossible  for  him  to  regard  Pizarro 
otherwise  than  as  his  arch-enemy  and  author  of  his  mis 
fortunes.  As  a  soldier  he  exonerated  the  other  officers  in 
a  degree,  reflecting  that  they  were  subordinates,  and  at 
tributing  to  their  leader  the  absolute  authority  over  them 
which  he  himself  wielded  over  his  troops.  So  upon  Pizarro 
he  placed  the  entire  weight  of  responsibility.  He  was 
repelled,  however,  by  the  cold  austerity  of  the  taciturn 
leader,  who  possessed  little  of  the  graciousness  of  his 
brother  Hernando  and  had  no  wish  for  the  good  will  of  the 
man  he  had  so  mortally  injured. 

To  Cristoval  the  tour  as  commander  of  the  guard  at 
the  palace  was  always  welcome.  On  one  of  these  occa 
sions,  having  some  need  to  see  the  Inca,  he  was  directed 
by  one  of  the  attendants  to  the  garden,  and  taking  one 'of 


96  THE    CRIMSON    CONQUEST 

the  side-paths  which  wound  through  the  shrubbery,  had 
gone  but  a  few  yards  when  a  turn  brought  him  face  to  face 
with  the  Nusta  Rava,  followed  by  one  of  her  handmaidens. 
He  bowed,  stepped  aside,  and  waited,  toque  in  hand,  for 
her  to  pass,  fully  expecting  to  encounter  the  indignant 
scorn  which  he  had  seen  last  in  her  handsome  eyes.  He 
found  it,  however,  quite  absent,  and  in  its  stead  one  of 
some  confusion,  not  unmixed  with  fear.  To  his  surprise 
she  halted  and  stood  looking  up  to  him  with  a  timidity 
that  made  him  uncomfortably  conscious  of  the  warlike 
attire  which  inspired  her  dread.  He  bowed  again,  and  in 
response  to  his  look  of  kindly  inquiry  she  began :  — 

"  Viracocha,  —  my  words  some  days  ago  were  spoken 
in  ignorance  of  all  my  obligations.  My  brother,  the  Inca, 
hath  told  me  of  your  many  acts  of  generosity  to  him  in  his 
misfortune.  Can  you  forget  my  injustice  and  accept  my 
gratitude?  " 

"  The  Nusta  Rava's  words  are  forgotten,"  replied  Cris- 
toval ;  "  and  I  can  only  thank  her  for  the  graciousness  of 
those  just  spoken.  I  beg  she  will  believe  the  sincerity  of 
my  sympathy  for  her  august  brother  and  herself." 

"  Ah,  I  do  believe  it,  Viracocha  Cristoval !  It  hath 
been  proven  by  your  friendship." 

"  You  may  count  upon  all  that  lieth  within  its  power," 
said  Cristoval,  earnestly.  "  I  would  it  could  undo  what 
hath  been  done;  but  if  it  can  ever  serve  you,  now  or  in  the 
future,  be  sure  of  it." 

He  had  spoken  with  the  gentleness  with  which  he 
would  have  addressed  a  child  —  in  fact,  he  looked  upon 
her  as  little  more  —  and  the  voice  of  the  unhappy  princess 
broke  when  she  tried  to  murmur  her  acknowledgment.  As 
she  turned  away  she  extended  her  hand.  Cristoval  pressed 
it  for  an  instant,  and  she  passed  on.  He  continued  his  walk 
meditatively.  Presently  he  came  to  a  bench  and  sat  down, 
studying  the  gravel  at  his  feet. 


CRISTOVAL   MEETS   THE    PRINCESS      97 

"A  murrain  seize  this  business ! "  he  thought.  " Heaven 
knoweth  what  is  to  become  of  her,  or  of  any  of  them. 
God  have  mercy  on  them !  —  and  may  the  fiend  run  away 
with  the  conquest !  There  's  no  glory  in  it,  nor  aught  but 
foul  outrage  and  devil's  greed  and  lust.  'Tis  not  even 
war!  Would  I  had  stayed  back  in  Panama,  and  had  no 
part  in  bringing  this  royal  brother  and  sister  into  the 
power  of  these  freebooters !  Wolves !  —  She  is  gentle  as 
a  Christian  —  when  it  pleaseth  her  to  be,  that  is!  Caral 
But  I  envy  not  the  man  who  doth  counter  her  disapproval. 
Ah,  well !  —  what  a  pity  she  is  not  a  Christian !  I  '11  speak 
to  Father  Tendilla :  he  is  a  kindly  old  man,  and  hath  gentle 
ness  of  speech." 

Cristoval  rose  and  walked  slowly  on. 

He  came  upon  the  Inca  shortly,  and  found  him  rest 
lessly  pacing  back  and  forth.  He  turned  at  the  sound 
of  the  cavalier's  footsteps,  and  his  countenance  bright 
ened  somewhat  as  he  said,  cordially  proffering  his  hand, 
"  May  the  Sun  never  hide  his  face  from  thee,  Viracocha 
Cristoval ! " 

"  God  be  with  you,  my  Lord  Inca ! "  said  Cristoval. 
"  I  trust  the  day  hath  gone  well." 

"  Not  ill,  though  I  have  known  better  ones,"  replied 
Atahualpa,  with  a  slight  smile.  "  I  have  had  another  visit 
from  thy  general  and  his  priest." 

"Father  Valverde?"  asked  Cristoval.  "I  would  it 
had  been  Tendilla." 

"  And  I !  "  said  the  Inca,  with  a  frown,  "  for  this  one 
pleaseth  me  not.  He  persisteth  in  assailing  my  religion. 
Why  is  it?  What  is  my  religion  to  him?  —  and  to  Pizarro? 
It  is  the  faith  of  my  fathers.  Why  should  I  change  it  at 
their  behest?  Hath  not  every  man  the  right  to  his  own  be 
lief  and  form  of  worship  ?  We  of  Tavantinsuyu  never  forced 
our  gods  upon  other  men ;  yet  this  priest  saith  your  people 
have  crossed  the  seas  to  bring  your  religion  to  me !  —  to 

7 


98  THE    CRIMSON    CONQUEST 

teach  me  the  words  of  the  Prince  of  Peace  —  the  Prince  of 
Peace!  Is  it  so?  Tell  me  —  is  that  the  purpose  of  your 
coming?  " 

His  face  had  grown  stern  as  he  put  the  question,  and 
without  pausing  for  an  answer  he  went  on  with  increasing 
vehemence:  "  Do  you  tell  me  it  is  for  this,  Viracocha  Cris- 
toval,  that  I  am  a  prisoner,  surrounded  by  guards  like  a 
common  criminal,  while  so  many  of  my  children  lie  in  un- 
honored  graves?  Is  it  that  I  may  become  a  Christian? 
Let  me  have  the  truth,  Viracocha !  " 

"  By  heaven,  I  will !  "  blurted  Cristoval,  weary  and  dis 
gusted  at  the  cloak  of  religion  under  which  his  countrymen 
strove  to  mask  their  rapacity.  "  I  '11  tell  you  why  we  are 
here,  Prince!  We  have  come  for  your  gold!  Now  you 
have  the  pith  and  meat  of  the  whole  matter.  Had  your 
country  not  been  cursed  with  wealth  you  and  your  people 
could  have  gone  peacefully  down  to  hell  unheeded  by  Span 
ish  priest  or  soldier.  But  you  have  gold,  and  we  want  it !  " 

Atahualpa  regarded  him  with  amazement  and  incredu 
lity.  "  Gold !  "  he  exclaimed.  "  Gold !  Dost  tell  me  you 
have  come  so  far  for  such  stuff  as  this?  "  and  he  pulled  the 
jewelled  bracelets  from  his  wrists  and  cast  them  scornfully 
at  Cristoval's  feet. 

"  For  such  as  that,  my  Lord  Inca,"  replied  Cristoval, 
ignoring  the  precious  ornaments. 

Atahualpa  gazed  at  him  for  a  moment  in  silence,  the 
look  of  astonishment  in  his  eyes  rapidly  yielding  to  one  of 
anger.  "  Dost  mean  to  say,"  he  demanded,  in  a  voice  grown 
suddenly  harsh,  "  that  this  measureless  calamity  hath  been 
brought  upon  me  and  mine  by  the  childish  desire  of  thy 
people  for  these  trumperies?  Great  God!  Are  you  mad 
men,  that  you  count  human  lives  paltry  beside  this  dross 
which  we  dig  from  the  earth?  Are  the  murder  of  my  people 
and  the  base  treachery  to  me  but  trifles?  " 

"  My  lord,  even  greater  wrongs  have  been  committed 


CRISTOVAL    MEETS    THE    PRINCESS      99 

for  the  love  of  gold.  Few  crimes  in  the  fiend's  category 
but  have  sprung  from  it.  It  hath  reddened  the  earth  with 
blood,  and  made  hell  populous." 

Cristoval  encountered  a  look  of  mingled  wonder  and 
abhorrence.  It  was  some  seconds  before  Atahualpa  spoke. 
Then  he  said  slowly :  "  Strange  beings !  Do  you  consider 
that  it  hath  some  magic  virtue,  this  gold,  or  doth  it  not 
possess  some  hidden  power  to  give  madness?  " 

"  Both,  my  Lord  Inca !  It  hath  a  magic  that  can  bring 
all  things  to  its  possessor  —  save  only  happiness,  love,  and 
salvation ;  and  it  can  cause  madness." 

"  It  is  a  riddle !  "  exclaimed  the  Inca,  with  impatience. 
"  But  enough !  Thou  tellest  me  you  have  come  for  gold. 
Dost  thou  want  gold,  Viracocha  Cristoval?  Hear  me!" 
He  drew  near  and  lowered  his  voice,  speaking  rapidly  and 
with  intensity :  "  I  would  be  free !  I  want  thine  aid  and 
friendship.  I  can  give  thee  more  gold  than  thou  couldst 
carry  the  length  of  this  garden  —  more  than  thou  and  the 
strongest  of  thy  companions  could  raise  from  the  ground !  " 

Cristoval  raised  his  hand :  "  My  Lord  Inca,  I  pray  you, 
do  not  offer  it.  My  friendship  cannot  be  purchased.  You 
have  it  now ;  and  when  my  aid  availeth  you  shall  have  that 
also,  though  not  for  gold,  my  lord.  I  will  do  all  in  my 
power  in  your  behalf  and  to  procure  your  freedom.  I 
know  not  my  commander's  design,  but  should  a  greater 
evil  threaten  you  than  hath  already  befallen,  reckon  my 
sword,  if  need  be,  in  your  defence." 

Atahualpa  studied  him  intently.  The  sincerity  of 
Peralta's  tone  was  in  his  eyes,  and  not  to  be  mistaken. 
"  Viracocha  Cristoval,"  said  the  monarch  after  a  pause, 
giving  his  hand,  "  I  know  not  whether  an  Inca  ever  before 
asked  forgiveness  of  any  man,  but  I  ask  thine  now !  I  be 
lieve  I  know  thy  friendship's  worth." 

"I  thank  you,  my  Lord  Inca,"  replied  Cristoval,  simply. 
"  But  now,  let  me  counsel  you.  If  you  have  gold  at  your 


ioo  THE    CRIMSON    CONQUEST 

command,  offer  it  to  Pizarro.  You  shall  find  that  when  his 
nose  smelleth  a  ransom  he  will  turn  a  willing  ear.  Have 
others  present  to  witness  your  proposal;  have  De  Soto 
—  he  is  an  honorable  man  —  and  Candia,  and  Hernando 
Pizarro  —  the  more  the  better.  And  heed  this  carefully: 
Be  not  too  liberal  in  your  tender;  rather,  be  a  shade  nig 
gardly  at  first,  lest  you  over-stimulate  his  cupidity.  Your 
offer  to  me  was  extravagant,  my  lord.  Be  moderate,  or 
you  may  defeat  your  end.  The  hint  of  a  too  bountiful 
source  from  which  to  draw  may  rouse  ambition  to  possess 
the  source  itself.  Were  your  supply  boundless  as  heaven, 
greed  would  rise  to  its  full  measure." 

Atahualpa  had  listened  with  close  attention.  He  pon 
dered  a  moment,  then  said :  "  I  believe  thy  counsel  is  wise. 
I  thank  thee,  my  friend.  I  will  follow  it." 


CHAPTER  X 

A  Royal  Ransom 

CRISTOVAL'S  suggestion  let  a  ray  of  hope  into 
the  Inca's  heart.  To  make  it  effectual  without 
delay,  and  to  bring  the  Spanish  officers  together, 
he  decided  upon  a  banquet.  He  mentioned  his 
purpose  to  Cristoval. 

"  Good !  "  said  the  cavalier,  emphatically.  "  Nothing 
could  be  better,  my  Lord  Inca.  'T  is  an  expedient  in  favor 
among  Christian  statesmen,  and  much  history  hath  grown 
out  of  roast  meats  and  wine  —  articles  uncommonly  fertile 
in  liberal  views  of  human  affairs,  and  productive  of  flow  of 
words  in  expressing  them.  Feed  Pizarro  well,  and  your 
proposal  will  follow  most  judiciously  upon  your  cheer." 

The  Spaniards  were  unprepared  for  the  splendor  of 
their  entertainment.  Banqueting  was  a  function  which 
the  Peruvians  had  developed  to  a  degree  of  elegance  hardly 
equalled  in  Christendom,  The  table  was  laden  not  only 
with  the  choicest  viands  of  the  region,  but  with  a  lavish 
display  of  plate  that  dazzled  the  eyes  of  the  guests  and 
rendered  the  <veedor  suddenly  speechless. 

The  Inca  watched  closely  to  observe  the  effect  of 
the  gold,  and  a  moment  convinced  him  that  Cristoval 
was  right.  He  noted  the  quick  lighting  of  Pizarro's  satur 
nine  countenance  and  the  significant  glance  at  his  com 
panions,  though  the  leader  gave  no  other  sign.  Some  of  his 
officers  retained  less  of  their  equipoise,  and  there  were 
ejaculations  of  the  names  of  saints,  the  Faith,  the  Cross, 


102  THE    CRIMSON    CONQUEST 

the  Sacrament,  and  the  like,  invoked  to  witness  their 
astonishment.  Mendoza  broke  into  a  coarse  guffaw  and 
slapped  his  neighbor  on  the  back.  De  Soto,  Hernando 
Pizarro,  Cristoval,  and  two  or  three  others  of  the  cavaliers 
of  gentle  breeding,  stood  with  faces  reddened  or  pale  with 
humiliation,  until  Pizarro  put  an  end  to  the  exhibition  with 
a  stern  "  Attention,  Senores !  For  the  sake  of  Heaven,  be 
silent !  Ye  are  at  the  table  of  a  gentleman." 

An  uncomfortable  constraint  of  some  minutes'  dura 
tion  followed  the  seating  of  the  company.  The  Inca  medi 
tated  upon  the  manifest  craving  of  his  guests  for  the  table 
ware,  a  greediness  to  him  preposterous.  The  Peruvians 
were  diligent  miners  of  the  two  precious  metals,  not  be 
cause  they  assigned  to  them  any  especial  value,  but  for  the 
reason  that  they  were  beautiful  and  adaptable  to  purposes 
of  decoration.  The  idea  of  their  use  as  a  medium  of  ex 
change,  that  they  could  be  representative  of  the  value 
of  other  things,  of  the  luxuries,  comforts,  and  even  neces 
sities  of  life,  was  beyond  the  Inca's  conception.  Money 
was  a  thing  unknown  in  Tavantinsuyu,  and  Cristoval  had 
not  yet  explained  to  him  its  use  in  Christendom.  But 
Atahualpa  saw  the  Spaniards  display  an  interest  in  his 
plate  which  seemed  emotional,  even  passionate,  and  which 
made  them  oblivious,  not  only  of  the  common  courtesy 
due  to  him  as  their  host,  but  of  their  own  dignity.  The 
unaccountable  appetite  excited  at  once  his  wonder  and 
scorn. 

After  a  moment,  however,  he  recalled  the  obligations 
of  hostship,  and  with  Felipillo's  help  engaged  different  ones 
in  conversation.  Pizarro  swallowed  his  irritation  and  took 
part  with  more  graciousness  than  Atahualpa  had  suspected 
him  capable  of  showing,  and  the  chill  which  had  threatened 
to  mar  the  evening  gradually  wore  away.  There  were 
several  of  his  nobles  present,  and  they  joined  as  freely  in 
the  sociability  as  circumstances  permitted ;  for  at  the  royal 


A    ROYAL   RANSOM  103 

table  the  extreme  formality  of  the  court  was  for  the  time 
suspended,  and  the  rigid  distinction  of  prince  and  subject 
laid  aside. 

At  last  the  table  was  cleared,  cups  were  served  and 
filled  with  chicha,  and  the  Inca,  dipping  his  finger-tip  into 
the  liquor,  filliped  a  few  drops  into  the  air  as  a  libation  to 
Inti,  the  Sun.  He  raised  his  cup  and  bowed  to  Pizarro. 
The  latter  responded,  and  in  accordance  with  an  ancient 
custom  of  the  Peruvians  remarkably  like  our  own,  the  Inca 
touched  his  cup  to  that  of  his  guest,  and  they  drank  to 
gether.  Thus,  with  each  of  the  company  in  turn  Atahualpa 
took  a  sip  of  chicha.  This  ceremony  completed,  he  turned 
again  to  the  Spanish  commander  and  said  with 
nonchalance :  — 

"  I  perceive,  Viracocha  Pizarro,  that  your  people  are 
attracted  by  some  of  our  metals  —  especially  so  by  gold. 
It  is  something  you  have  in  your  own  country?  " 

"  It  is  something  which  some  of  us  have  in  our  own 
country,  my  Lord  Inca,"  replied  Pizarro ;  "  and  of  which 
more  of  us  have  little ;  but  something,  by  the  Faith,  which 
all  of  us  are  pushing  hardily  to  get ! " 

"  Ah !  "  said  the  Inca.  "  But  you  possess  a  metal  of 
far  greater  value  in  your  iron,  Viracocha.  It  hath  sur 
prised  me  that  you  can  set  so  much  importance  upon  one 
of  comparatively  little  worth.  But,  —  I  would  ask  a  ques 
tion,  —  can  freedom  be  purchased  with  gold?  " 

Surprised  by  its  suddenness,  Pizarro  seemed  to  fail  for 
a  moment  to  find  a  reply. 

"  Can  freedom  be  purchased  with  gold,  Viracocha 
Pizarro?  "  repeated  Atahualpa. 

Pizarro  recovered  himself,  and  replied  with  emphasis : 
"  By  the  Crucifix,  that  it  can !  —  provided  gold  enough  be 
offered." 

"  Provided  gold  enough  be  offered ! "  repeated  the 
Inca,  unable  to  conceal  his  eagerness.  "  Then  hear  me, 


104  THE    CRIMSON    CONQUEST 

General  Pizarro:  Promise  me  liberty,  and  I  will  cover  the 
floor  of  this  room  with  gold !  " 

The  company  ceased  talking.  Pizarro  looked  at  him 
in  astonishment,  while  a  smile  of  incredulity  went  round 
the  table.  Atahualpa  misinterpreted  the  silence  and  the 
expression,  taking  them  to  mean  that  his  offer  was  too 
meagre.  He  looked  from  one  to  another  for  a  moment,  then 
sprang  to  his  feet,  and  striding  to  the  wall,  stretched  his 
hand  above  his  head  as  far  as  he  could  reach. 

"  I  will  fill  the  room  to  this  height  with  gold,  Viraco- 
chas!  —  Is  it  enough?  "  he  demanded,  his  eyes  blazing  with 
hardly  suppressed  excitement.  "  Is  it  enough  ?  " 

Still  the  Spaniards  were  silent  —  dumb  with  amaze 
ment.  Several  had  arisen.  "  Mad!  "  whispered  one.  The 
Inca  stood  waiting  for  their  reply,  his  arm  upraised,  his 
commanding  figure  drawn  to  its  full  height,  glittering 
in  the  lamplight  with  gems  and  golden  decorations,  while 
his  dark  eyes  gleamed  from  beneath  the  fringe  of  the  Uauta 
as  he  surveyed  the  astonished  Viracochas. 

"  Is  it  not  enough?  "  he  demanded  again.  "  Then  a 
like  amount  of  silver !  " 

"  Hold,  in  the  name  of  Heaven!  "  exclaimed  Cristoval 
warningly  in  Quichua. 

Pizarro  regained  his  voice :  "  What  sayest  thou,  Pe- 
ralta? —  Can  he  do  it?  Ask  the  noble  beside  thee !  " 

The  noble  answered  with  emphasis  in  the  affirmative. 

"  Then  't  is  done !  "  shouted  Pizarro,  unable  to  restrain 
his  excitement.  "  Done !  Agreed,  my  Lord  Inca !  We 
accept  your  offer.  Make  good  your  terms,  and  you  are  a 
free  man  —  at  liberty  to  go  and  come  without  let  or  hin 
drance.  Here  is  my  hand  upon  it.  Wait !  —  We  '11  give  you 
an  instrument  in  writing.  Zapato,  step  out  and  send  an 
orderly  for  my  secretary.  Hernando,  mount  a  chair  and 
scratch  a  mark  with  thy  dagger  where  the  Inca  put  his 
hand.  My  lord,  deign  to  raise  your  hand  again.  By  the 


A   ROYAL    RANSOM  105 

gods,  Sefiores!  What  say  you  to  't?  A  hundred  thousand 
demons!  D'ye  believe  your  ears?  We  are  all  rich  men! 
Ask  the  noble  again,  Peralta,  whether  he  can  do  it !  —  Ask 
another  of  them!  Saith  he  yes?  Art  sure?  Blood  and 
wounds  and  gods  of  war!  Ha,  ha!  What  say  ye  to't, 
Senores?  " 

Pizarro's  cold  reserve  had  gone.  Cristoval  had  rarely 
seen  him  smile  before:  now  he  laughed,  even  roared,  not 
pleasantly;  and  his  pale  countenance  showed  unaccus 
tomed  color.  The  <z>eeflfo/|had  pulled  several  times  at  his 
sleeve,  unheeded. 

"  Pizarro!  "  he  whispered.  "  Pizarro !  Hold  off  a  bit! 
He  would  have  offered  more,  I  am  sure  of  it !  " 

Pizarro  turned  upon  him  with  impatience :  "  Oh,  a 
curse  upon  thy  money-gluttony,  Rogelio!  Hath  it  no 
bounds?  Art  insatiable?  Be  silent!" 

"  He  had  opened  his  mouth  to  offer  more,  I  '11  swear 
it !  Oh,  misery !  "  snuffled  the  <veedor,  as  he  turned  away. 

The  room  was  in  a  hubbub.  Every  man  was  on  his 
feet,  talking  at  the  top  of  his  voice  and  gesticulating. 
Now  the  chicha  flowed  without  stint.  When  the  secretary 
entered  and  set  about  the  work  of  drawing  up  the  agree 
ment  they  crowded  upon  him,  explaining,  suggesting,  and 
advising,  until  in  despair  he  appealed  to  the  commander, 
and  they  were  ordered  back  while  Pizarro  dictated  the 
document.  Rogelio  was  a  notary,  and  the  paper  was  duly 
attested  and  sworn  to,  the  Inca  looking  on  with  interest, 
and  making  his  mark  at  last  in  accordance  with  a  confusion 
of  instructions  from  the  wrought-up  Spaniards.  The  busi 
ness  finished,  he  retired  with  a  faint  significant  smile  to 
Cristoval ;  but  his  going  was  almost  unnoted  by  the  others, 
and  they  lingered  over  their  chicha  and  their  jubilation 
until  the  small  hours,  when  the  guard  was  summoned  to 
carry  certain  ones  to  their  quarters.  Rogelio  was  hauled 
from  a  corner,  and  awoke  to  bitter  tears  and  incoherent 


io6  THE   CRIMSON    CONQUEST 

reproaches  hurled  against  Pizarro's  want  of  commercial 
sense.  Pedro  had  appeared  upon  the  scene  at  its  close, 
and  directed  the  veedor's  removal. 

"  What,  my  fat  pet ! "  exclaimed  the  cook  in  commis 
eration.  "  What,  Rogelio,  my  barrel  of  grease !  Melting 
thus  in  tears?  Wasting  thy  blubber  in  futile  drippings? 
Prithee,  now,  check  thy  thaw!  A  most  melancholy  de- 
liquation,  my  friend !  A  sad  prodigality  of  tallow !  Come, 
stay  thy  liquefaction!  Swab,  wipe,  stop  thy  leaks,  des 
iccate,  run  dry,  my  civil  officer  of  the  Crown ;  thou  'rt 
growing  soggy!  —  What!  Damn  Pizarro?  Agreed!  — 
Damn  the  Inca?  Fie,  my  cherub!  —  Damn  everybody? 
Ah !  But  with  one  exception,  and  that 's  Pedro,  the  cook. 
Now  thou  'rt  hiccoughing,  and  I  'm  done  with  thee.  Adibs, 
Rogelio,  my  lard-firkin !  Good-night,  my  Cupid ! "  and 
Pedro  stumped  away. 

Without  loss  of  time  Atahualpa  despatched  his  chasquis 
to  Cuzco  and  other  important  towns,  bearing  orders  that 
temples  be  dismantled  of  their  gold  and  silver  decorations, 
that  palaces  be  stripped  of  their  utensils ;  that,  in  short,  the 
precious  metals  be  drawn  from  every  possible  source  and 
forwarded  with  all  speed  to  Caxamalca.  The  report  of  the 
fabulous  offer  of  ransom  went  abroad  among  the  Spanish 
soldiers,  received  by  most  of  them  with  incredulity  and 
jeers;  by  a  few,  with  riotous  demonstrations  of  joy.  The 
room  was  promptly  measured.  It  was  found  to  be  about 
seventeen  feet  broad,  by  twenty-two  feet  long,  and  the 
height  indicated  by  the  Inca  in  the  neighborhood  of  nine 
feet  from  the  floor.  This  space  was  to  be  filled  with  gold 
in  two  months,  and  a  smaller  room  adjoining  to  be  twice 
filled  with  silver. 

It  was  days  before  there  were  returns  from  the 
Inca's  orders;  —  days  of  restlessness  for  him,  for  he  was 
desperate  to  see  the  fulfilment  of  his  terms  begun. 
Pizarro's  eagerness  was  hardly  less,  but  it  was  tempered 


A    ROYAL    RANSOM  107 

with  much  doubt  of  Atahualpa's  ability  to  produce  so  vast 
a  treasure. 

At  length,  however,  the  first  consignment  arrived, 
borne  on  the  backs  of  porters.  The  news  spread  rapidly. 
The  Indies  were  halted  in  the  square  by  an  importunate 
rabble  of  soldiers,  clamorous  for  a  sight  of  their  burden, 
and  made  to  open  their  packages.  As  the  rich  booty  was 
disclosed  the  soldiers  stared  a  moment  in  stupefied  silence, 
then  raised  a  shout.  Others  came  running,  gazed  for  a 
second,  and  added  their  whoops.  They  went  mad.  They 
embraced  one  another,  joined  hands  and  danced  around  the 
glowing  yellow  heap,  bellowing  their  glee.  They  mauled 
each  other  in  heavy  horse-play,  roaring  in  uncouth  laughter, 
without  words  to  fit  their  raptures.  The  Indian  porters 
looked  on,  wondering,  as  had  the  Inca,  whether  gold  had 
not  some  hidden  power  to  give  madness.  The  soldiers 
seized  them,  whirled  them  into  their  clumsy  fandango, 
clapped  their  backs  and  called  them  "  amiffos,"  "  her- 
manos,"  — friends  and  brothers,  —  and  made  them  dizzy. 
Presently  the  treasure  was  gathered  up  and  borne  by  the 
singing,  yelling  mob  in  triumph  to  Pizarro's  headquarters 
in  tumultuous  invasion.  That  night  no  man  slept. 

Thereafter,  the  stream  of  gold  flowed  steadily  into 
Caxamalca  for  weeks,  fortunes  in  a  day.  But  soon  came 
the  inevitable  reaction.  Exultancy  gave  place  to  uneasi 
ness  and  discontent.  The  treasure  did  not  come  in  fast 
enough !  The  Inca  was  delaying  for  the  purpose  of  gain 
ing  time  to  prepare  for  hostilities!  Even  Pizarro  became 
suspicious,  and  went  to  Atahualpa  with  the  charge.  The 
Inca  met  him  with  a  dignified  reminder  of  the  distance  to 
be  traversed  by  the  gold,  and  the  difficulties  of  the  road. 
Pizarro  was  half  satisfied;  his  soldiers  less.  Rumors  per 
sistently  arose  of  native  uprisings  to  rescue  the  monarch 
and  regain  the  treasure,  which  the  Spaniards  could  not 
conceive  to  be  less  an  object  of  greed  to  the  Indios  than 


io8  THE    CRIMSON   CONQUEST 

to  themselves.  Pizarro  bluntly  accused  the  Inca  of  con 
spiring  against  him,  but  Atahualpa  disdained  the  imputa 
tion.  The  event  proved  his  innocence,  for  a  reconnaissance 
by  Hernando  Pizarro  to  the  south  not  only  failed  to  find 
disquiet,  but  was  received  everywhere  with  good-will.  For 
a  time  the  suspicions  were  allayed,  only  to  rise  again  later 
in  greater  strength. 

About  this  time  an  event  occurred  which  still  further 
strained  the  relations  between  Pizarro  and  his  captive. 
Huascar,  Atahualpa's  half-brother,  then  a  prisoner  at 
Xauxa,  learned  of  the  ransom  being  paid  the  Spaniards, 
and  sent  secret  emissaries  offering  an  even  greater  price 
for  his  own  liberty.  The  negotiation  was  terminated  sud 
denly  by  Huascar's  death.  Whether  the  unfortunate  prince 
was  executed  by  the  Inca's  order  is  a  matter  of  doubt,  but 
the  fact  that  he  was  drowned  in  the  river  Andamarca  gives 
credit  to  the  belief  that  he  perished  in  an  attempt  to  escape. 

As  soon  as  the  tragedy  was  reported  to  him  the  Inca 
sent  for  Pizarro  and  informed  him  of  Huascar's  death  with 
every  expression  of  regret,  apparently  sincere. 

"  What !  "  shouted  Pizarro,  his  face  livid.  "  Huascar 
dead!  What  tale  is  this?  Beware  trifling  with  me,  my 
Lord  Inca!  You  will  produce  your  brother  in  Caxamalca, 
alive  and  unharmed.  This  controversy  between  you  shall 
be  tried  in  a  Christian  court,  as  I  have  said  to  you  before. 
Seek  not  to  avoid  it  by  subterfuge,  my  lord !  " 

"  General  Pizarro,"  replied  the  Inca,  with  dignity,  "  I 
have  said  that  Huascar  is  dead." 

"  Then,  by  the  Eternal !  "  flamed  Pizarro,  "  you  shall 
pay  for  it  with  your  life !  "  and  turning  on  his  heel,  he  left 
the  room. 


CHAPTER  XI 
The  Inca's  Last  Prayer 

THEREAFTER  Pizarro's  interviews  with  the 
Inca  were  as  few  and  brief  as  possible.  In 
deed,  after  the  night  of  the  banquet  the  captive 
was  rarely  seen  by  most  of  the  Spanish  officers, 
for,  with  the  exception  of  Hernando  Pizarro,  De  Soto, 
and  Peralta,  they  were  seldom  invited  to  the  palace. 
Now  a  settled  melancholy  had  come  over  Atahualpa,  which 
however  disguised,  did  not  escape  Cristoval.  The  de 
pression  of  his  captivity  was  increased  by  the  enmity 
which  the  Spanish  commander  took  no  further  pains  to 
conceal.  The  grief  of  the  Nusta  Rava  for  her  brother, 
moreover,  had  thrown  a  gloom  over  the  palace,  and 
deeply  concerned  Atahualpa,  who  loved  her  with  a 
brother's  solicitude  and  felt  her  unhappiness  more  keenly 
than  was  apparent  to  one  unable  to  penetrate  the  impas- 
siveness  of  his  bearing. 

The  princess  fully  returned  his  attachment.  She  had 
been  much  with  him  of  late,  and,  with  Toparca,  had  often 
taken  part  in  his  conversations  with  Cristoval  —  a  favor 
seldom  accorded  to  the  other  Spaniards,  by  whom  the 
women  of  the  Inca's  family  were  rarely  seen.  Now  she 
kept  the  seclusion  of  her  apartments.  Atahualpa  missed 
her  greatly,  and  Cristoval  often  found  him  profoundly 
gloomy  and  distraught.  The  cavalier  encouraged  him 
generously,  doubtful  himself,  at  times,  of  the  commander's 
integrity,  but  daily  more  determined  that  the  contract 
should  be  carried  out. 


no  THE   CRIMSON    CONQUEST 

The  summer  had  passed  its  height.  About  the  mid 
dle  of  February  Almagro  arrived  with  a  hundred  and 
fifty  infantry  and  fifty  horse,  well  equipped,  and  Pizarro 
found  himself  able  to  resume  activity.  He  began  prep 
arations  at  once  for  the  march  to  Cuzco.  The  ransom 
was  almost  made  up,  and  it  was  thought  best  to  divide 
it  without  delay  and  continue  the  campaign  rather  than 
give  the  Peruvians  time  to  conceal  their  treasures,  which, 
it  was  suspected,  they  were  already  doing.  Before  mak 
ing  the  division  it  was  necessary  to  reduce  the  whole  to 
ingots  of  uniform  standard,  and  resort  was  had  to  the 
Indian  goldsmiths.  They  were  set  to  work,  but  so  great 
was  the  amount  that  a  month  passed  before  the  task  was 
finished.  At  last  the  splendid  collection,  representing 
years  of  work  and  the  highest  skill  of  native  art,  was  a  com 
mon  heap  of  bars.  These  weighed,  the  Spaniards  found 
themselves  possessors  of  1,326,539  pesos  de  oro,  more 
than  fifteen  million  dollars  of  our  present  currency.  To 
this  there  were  413,000  ounces  of  silver  in  addition. 

The  division  was  made  with  solemnity.  The  com 
panies  were  formed  in  the  square,  and  after  invoking  the 
Divine  blessing  upon  the  transaction,  a  fifth  part  —  the 
royal  fifth,  it  was  called  —  was  deducted  to  be  sent  to 
the  Emperor  Charles.  The  remainder  was  divided  among 
the  members  of  the  expedition  according  to  rank. 

Cristoval  found  himself  rich.  His  share  would  be 
worth  to-day  something  over  one  hundred  and  fifty  thou 
sand  dollars,  but  the  humblest  pikeman  was  more  rejoiced 
than  he.  Peralta  was  not  more  indifferent  to  wealth  than 
any  other  normal  man,  but  this  gold !  —  it  was  befouled. 
It  reeked  with  the  massacre.  He  surveyed  the  yellow  bars 
as  they  lay  in  the  treasure  room  of  the  palace,  and  thought 
of  the  captive  prince,  his  friend.  There  he  left  it  and  went 
away,  harassed  by  its  allurement  and  the  ignominy  of 
its  ownership. 


THE    INCA'S    LAST    PRAYER  in 

The  treasure  having  thus  been  satisfactorily  appor 
tioned,  with  or  without  the  Divine  blessing,  the  friends 
of  Atahualpa  held  that  his  part  of  the  contract  was  ful 
filled.  Hernando  Pizarro,  whose  friendship  for  the  mon 
arch  was  outspoken,  urged  that  he  be  given  his  promised 
liberty.  Pizarro  demurred.  The  time  was  inopportune. 
Word  had  been  brought  by  a  chief  of  the  Canares,  a 
friendly  tribe  encamped  in  the  valley,  that  an  uprising  was 
fomenting  in  the  South.  To  release  the  Inca  would  be 
perilous  for  the  present,  but  it  would  be  done  once  tran 
quillity  was  assured.  Meanwhile,  the  royal  fifth  must  go 
to  Spain.  Would  not  Hernando  be  the  bearer?  It  would 
be  the  most  favorable  of  introductions  at  court,  and  if  car 
ried  through  with  address,  might  lead  to  something,  — 
who  could  tell?  Three  hundred  thousand  pesos  laid  grace 
fully  at  his  Majesty's  feet  would  smooth  a  way  for  the  re 
quest,  for  example,  that  Peru  be  made  a  viceroyalty.  A 
title  for  Hernando  himself  were  not  impossible. 

The  prospect  was  flattering,  and  the  Inca's  case  easily 
laid  aside.  Hernando  went  forthwith. 

His  departure  removed  one  embarrassment  from  the 
design  which  the  commander  secretly  meditated  in  regard 
to  the  Inca,  and  which  he  knew  Hernando  would  oppose 
with  vigor.  He  would  still  have  equally  stanch  sup 
porters  of  the  prisoner  to  deal  with,  but  he  trusted  to 
circumstance  to  overcome  or  remove  their  influence.  De 
Soto  was  the  most  formidable  advocate  of  Atahualpa's 
cause.  Soon  after  Hernando's  departure,  he  and  Cristo- 
val  went  to  the  commander.  They  found  Almagro  there, 
and  Riquelme,  the  royal  treasurer,  who  had  come  with 
him  from  San  Miguel.  Mendoza  and  one  or  two  others 
came  in  shortly  afterward. 

"  The  Inca  beginneth  to  chafe,  General,"  said  De 
Soto,  "  over  his  delayed  freedom.  Several  days  have 
passed  since  the  division  of  the  ransom,  but  he  awaiteth 


H2  THE   CRIMSON    CONQUEST 

intimation  that  his  captivity  is  near  its  end.  May  I  not 
bear  him  some  assurance?  " 

"  Not  now,  Soto,"  replied  Pizarro,  impatiently.  "  Let 
him  wait.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  he  hath  not  yet  made  up 
the  amount  he  promised.  It  was  short,  considerably,  of 
reaching  the  line  on  the  wall." 

"  What !  "  exclaimed  De  Soto,  bluntly.  "  Wilt  thou 
make  excuse  of  that?  Thou  knowest  that  waiting  would 
have  brought  the  full  sum;  and  thou  knowest,  besides, 
it  will  be  made  up  tenfold  when  we  reach  Cuzco.  A  poor 
pretext,  Pizarro,  I  '11  be  bound !  " 

Pizarro  shrugged.  De  Soto  eyed  him  sharply,  wait 
ing  for  his  response.  Pizarro  shrugged  again,  and  said: 
"Bfen!  I  '11  not  hold  the  Inca  for  that,  Soto.  I  '11  acquit 
him  of  the  rest  of  the  obligation,  but  ask  not  his  freedom 
now.  Thou  hast  heard  of  the  tribes  in  the  South,  and 
to-day  cometh  news  that  an  army  lieth  at  Quito,  with 
thirty  thousand  Caribs  ready  to  join.  I  doubt  not  that 
this  Senor  Inca  is  party  to  it.  If  it  so  proveth,  by  Heaven, 
he  shall  pay  dearly  for  his  treachery !  " 

"  Rumors  and  yet  more  rumors !  "  exclaimed  De  Soto, 
contemptuously.  "  Santa.  Madre  I  How  long  shall  we  enter 
tain  these  cries  of  wolf,  Pizarro?  A  rising  of  the  Indies, 
forsooth!  A  spectre  to  be  laid  daily!  With  five  men  I 
could  ride  to  Cuzco.  Give  the  order,  and  I  will  go." 

Pizarro  regarded  him  thoughtfully.  "  It  might  be 
well  advised,  Soto  —  not  with  five  men,  but  with  thy 
troop;  and  not  so  far  as  Cuzco,  but  to  Guamachucho, 
whence  the  rumors  come.  The  reconnaissance  could  be 
made  in  a  week  —  there  and  return.  Let  us  say,  ten  days 
without  hard  marching.  Thou  couldst  start  to-morrow? 
Very  well.  —  And  Peralta,  thou  hast  knowledge  of  the 
Quichua.  Excellente  I  I  will  think  of  it." 

When  De  Soto  and  Cristoval  had  departed  Pizarro 
swore  an  oath.  "  But  for  the  qualms  of  those  two  and 


THE    INCA'S    LAST    PRAYER  113 

half-a-dozen  others,"  he  fumed,  "  we  need  not  fash  our 
selves  about  this  accursed  proud  heathen  king.  I  would 
snuff  him  out,  for  by  the  faith!  I  had  liefer  trust  myself 
with  a  wounded  bear  than  set  him  loose  to  bring  his 
hordes  to  our  destruction.  He  is  a  mad  bull  held  by  the 
horns.  I  can  neither  hold  him  nor  let  him  go.  Were  it 
not  for  him  we  could  be  on  the  march  to  Cuzco;  but  as 
't  is,  we  dare  not  leave  him  under  such  guard  as  we  can 
spare,  nor  can  safely  take  him  with  us." 

"  Then  why  shilly-shally  ?  "  demanded  Almagro.  "  A 
bit  of  steel  between  his  ribs,  or  a  hitch  of  rope  about  his 
neck,  and  we  are  disencumbered.  My  life!  I  see  no 
complexity  in  that." 

"  But  De  Soto  hath  his  troop  at  his  back,  Almagro, 
and  an  embroglio  now  would  put  us  in  bad  case. 
Many  of  the  men  would  be  but  lukewarm  for  the  Inca's 
death.  Since  they  have  his  gold  they  shout,  '  Vrva ellncal' 
and  affect  a  friendliness." 

"  Ah !  "  scoffed  Riquelme.  "  The  fleeting  dim  grati 
tude  of  jackals  with  bellies  full !  'T  is  easily  chilled.  Stir 
up  fresh  rumors.  Incite  alarms.  Put  them  forty-eight 
hours  under  arms  on  guard,  then  hear  them  yelp  and 
snarl.  When  they  bay  in  full  chorus,  bring  charges  against 
the  Inca.  Try  him  in  court  with  all  grave  show  and  per 
tinent  solemnity.  When  De  Soto  and  Peralta  return, 
show  them  a  royal  grave." 

"  The  soul  and  essence  of  good  counsel,  Riquelme, 
and  most  crisply  put ! "  exclaimed  Almagro,  half  admir 
ingly,  half  in  contempt.  "  Thou  'rt  a  man  of  parts,  my 
friend,  and  fit  to  intrigue  with  cardinals,  prime  ministers, 
and  favorites  of  kings  —  or  to  be  a  barrister !  Ha !  Leave 
it  to  Riquelme,  Pizarro." 

Pizarro  looked  from  one  to  another  without  re 
plying.  He  smiled,  and  his  smile  was  not  pleasant  to 
look  upon.  Instructing  the  sentinel  at  the  door  that  no 

8 


U4  THE    CRIMSON    CONQUEST 

one  should  be  admitted,  he  drew  his  chair  close  to  his 
visitors. 

The  council  was  long.  At  its  close  Pizarro  said: 
"  Well,  think  upon  it  overnight  and  come  again  to-morrow. 
There  are  charges  enough  to  answer  our  purpose,  and 
we  have  only  to  put  them  into  form.  Cara  I  This  device 
is  luckily  hit  upon,  Senores,  and  we  '11  perfect  its  members. 
Say  not  a  word  of  it  to  any  man.  Now  I  '11  issue  an  order 
for  De  Soto's  march.  That  was  a  hint  opportunely  offered. 
He  was  in  the  way,  and,  curse  him!  I  saw  no  means  of 
being  quit  of  his  importunities.  —  Adibs,  gentlemen.  I 
thank  you  for  your  good  counsel." 

De  Soto  received  marching  orders  that  evening,  and 
he  and  Cristoval  spent  the  greater  part  of  the  night  in 
the  preparation  of  the  troop.  In  the  morning,  Cristoval 
hurried  to  take  leave  of  the  Inca.  The  hour  was  early, 
and  the  latter  had  not  come  from  his  private  apartments. 
After  a  few  minutes'  conversation  with  the  nobles  in  the 
anteroom  of  the  small  salon  where  Atahualpa  received  his 
friends  informally,  Cristoval  entered.  In  a  moment  he 
saw  the  nobles  sink  to  their  knees.  Their  sovereign  was 
approaching.  Atahualpa  paused  for  a  word  of  greeting, 
and  entered  the  room  where  the  cavalier  stood  waiting. 
Seeing  Cristoval  in  full  armor,  he  asked  anxiously  as  he 
advanced,  — 

"What  is  this,  Viracocha  Cristoval?  Thou  'rt 
equipped  as  for  battle!  I  trust  nothing  hath  occurred, 
or  is  about  to  occur." 

"  Nothing,  my  lord.  I  have  come  to  bid  you  a  short 
farewell.  I  go  with  De  Soto  on  a  few  days'  journey. 
We  ride  to  Guamachucho." 

"To  Guamachucho!    Why  to  Guamachucho?" 

"  Merely  to  prove  to  Pizarro  that  another  rumor 
which  hath  reached  his  ears  is  without  foundation,  my 
Lord  Inca.  He  gave  his  promise  yesterday  to  release 


THE    INCA'S    LAST   PRAYER  115 

you  the  moment  he  feeleth  secure,  and  we  go  to  hasten 
his  assurance.  We  will  return  to  see  you  at  liberty  and 
rejoice  with  you,  my  lord." 

Atahualpa  made  no  immediate  reply,  but  stood  with 
arms  folded,  his  eyes  bent  gloomily  upon  the  floor.  At 
length  he  asked,  "Your  going  is  voluntary?" 

"  Entirely  so,  my  Lord  Inca.  It  was  De  Soto's  sug 
gestion.  He  offered,  to  prove  the  good  will  of  your  peo 
ple,  to  ride  to  Cuzco  almost  alone.  So  long  a  journey 
being  needless,  we  make  this  shorter  one." 

The  cloud  deepened  upon  the  Inca's  brow.  Finally 
he  said,  half  meditatively :  "  I  fear  it  is  unfortunate.  The 
Viracocha  Hernando,  who,  I  believe,  was  my  friend,  hath 
gone.  Now  thou  and  De  Soto  go.  I  would  it  were 
otherwise,  Viracocha  Cristoval." 

Cristoval  divined  the  cause  of  his  misgiving.  "  Nay, 
my  lord,"  he  said  earnestly,  "  the  circumstance  hath 
no  import,  believe  me.  You  have  many  other  friends  in 
the  army.  Yesterday  I  heard  the  soldiers  shouting, 
'  Long  live  the  Inca ! '  Moreover,  Pizarro  hath  given  you 
formal  quittance  of  your  ransom.  Have  you  not  heard 
of  it?" 

"  I  have  heard." 

"  You  will  receive  the  paper  to-day ;  and  now  nothing 
delayeth  your  liberty  but  Pizarro's  uneasiness  about  the 
feeling  among  your  subjects.  We  shall  remove  that  un 
certainty,  and  when  we  meet  again,  my  lord,  it  will  be 
on  the  eve  of  your  freedom." 

Atahualpa  turned  his  dark  eyes  upon  him.  "  My 
friend,"  he  said  gravely,  "  we  shall  not  meet  again !  — 
Nay,  hear  me!  I  know  what  thou  wouldst  say,  but  I  am 
right.  This  is  our  last  meeting.  —  Be  silent !  "  he  inter 
rupted,  with  some  sternness,  when  Cristoval  essayed  to 
speak.  "  I  do  not  say  this  to  hear  thy  protests ;  and  let 
us  not  waste  words,  for  time  is  fleeting.  When  you 


n6  THE   CRIMSON    CONQUEST 

return,  I  shall  be  —  not  here.  I  have  been  forewarned. 
My  life  is  near  its  close.  Enough!  I  do  not  fear  to  die. 
I  would  say  naught  of  this,  but  there  is  something  I  would 
ask  of  thee." 

He  paused,  and  for  a  moment  his  eyes  looked  search- 
ingly  into  those  of  the  cavalier.  When  he  resumed  it 
was  as  if  satisfied  with  the  scrutiny,  and  he  spoke  in  the 
tone  he  might  have  used  to  a  brother. 

"  There  is  something  I  would  ask  of  thee.  Thou  hast 
been  my  friend,  as  I  believe  in  my  heart.  Of  all  these 
unknown  around  me  I  have  felt  that  I  know  thee,  Vira- 
cocha  Cristoval,  and  I  know  that  I  can  entrust  to  thee 
now  my  dearest  wish.  It  is  this:  I  shall  leave  behind  me 
many  loved  ones,  and  among  them  the  Nusta  Rava. 
Promise  me  thou  wilt  be  to  her  what  thou  wouldst  wish 
a  friend  to  be  to  thy  best  beloved  sister.  Toparca  hath 
not  his  strength.  None  of  my  people  can  aid  her  as  well 
as  thou  in  time  of  need.  Guard  her  life  until  thou  canst 
convey  her  to  safety.  Above  all,  guard  her  honor.  Prom 
ise  me  this.  Nay,  promise  me  more.  She  will  be  sur 
rounded  by  a  thousand  perils  —  give  thy  word  thou 'It 
be  ready  to  lay  down  thy  life  to  save  her  unharmed ;  and, 
should  all  else  fail,  that  thou  wilt,  at  the  end  of  hope, 
plunge  thy  dagger  to  her  heart,  rather  than  surrender  her 
to  dishonor.  Give  me  thy  promise.  I  ask  it  as  a  soldier 
of  a  soldier,  Viracocha  Cristoval." 

Cristoval,  moved  to  the  depths  of  his  chivalrous  soul 
by  the  earnest  appeal  of  this  splendid  despot,  who  had 
never  before  laid  aside  his  majesty  to  ask  a  boon  of  mortal 
man,  but  who  now  addressed  him  with  a  brother's  prayer 
for  the  sanctity  of  his  sister,  offered  his  hand.  It  was 
taken  by  the  monarch,  and  for  the  moment  they  stood 
regarding  one  another,  no  longer  as  prince  and  conquis 
tador,  Inca  and  Spaniard,  but  as  men. 

"  My  Lord  Inca,"  said  Cristoval,  "  I  swear  by  all  I 


THE   INCA'S    LAST   PRAYER  117 

hold  most  sacred  to  spare  neither  my  blood  nor  my  life  in 
her  defence !  " 

"  It  is  enough,  my  friend.  I  thank  thee.  I  demand 
much  of  thy  friendship.  How  I  can  ask  it  of  one  who 
hath  come  with  mine  enemies,  with  full  assurance  that 
I  ask  it  not  in  vain,  only  He  who  shineth  into  all  men's 
hearts  can  say.  I  trust  thee,  Viracocha  Cristoval.  Now 
go!  May  the  infinite  and  unknown  Pachacamac  watch 
over  thee!  Farewell.  But  wait  —  take  this!  —  it  will 
serve  thee."  He  unwound  the  llautu  from  his  head  and 
detached  a  bit  of  its  crimson  fringe.  "  Preserve  it !  It 
will  be  thy  safeguard  to  the  farthest  borders  of  Tavantin- 
suyu.  Farewell ! " 


CHAPTER  XII 
Vengeance  Foiled 

ALTHOUGH  Cristoval  could  not  share  the  Inca's 
mistrust  of  Pizarro's  faith,  he  was  profoundly 
impressed  by  his  words  of  farewell,  spoken  with 
such  firm  conviction.  They  saddened  him  despite 
his  confidence  in  his  commander,  and  as  he  crossed  the 
court  his  steps  lagged  while  he  pondered  the  possibility  of 
remaining  in  Caxamalca.  His  deliberation  was  ended  by 
the  trumpets  of  his  troop  sounding  in  the  plaza.  It  was 
too  late  now,  at  any  rate,  and  he  hurried  on.  He  was 
arrested  by  hearing  his  name  called  timidly,  and  turning, 
saw  one  of  the  Princess  Rava's  maidens  hastening  toward 
him. 

"  Viracocha,"  she  said,  "  my  mistress  sendeth  greeting, 
and  prayeth  a  few  words." 

"  Most  gladly,"  replied  Cristoval.  "  Wilt  lead  me  to 
her?  " 

He  followed  her  to  the  garden,  and  a  few  paces  brought 
them  to  the  princess.  She  rose  as  they  approached,  and 
Cristoval  regarded  her  with  new  interest.  He  noted  with 
sympathy  the  traces  of  care  and  grief,  wondering  at  the 
heightened  womanliness  they  had  produced,  and  suddenly 
recognizing  in  her  that  rare  nature  whose  gentlest  and  fair 
est  attributes  are  perfected  by  sorrow.  Cristoval  had  not 
known  many  good  women  in  his  adventurous  career,  but 
he  had  discovered  this  quality  with  increased  reverence  for 
womankind.  He  observed  it  now  in  this  girl  of  a  strange 
and  new-found  race,  and  thought  to  himself,  "  Well,  God 


VENGEANCE    FOILED  119 

save  them,  they  are  all  sisters,  whatever  their  blood  —  and 
the  burden  of  sorrow  worked  by  men's  misdeeds  falleth 
always  most  heavily  upon  them !  " 

As  he  drew  near  he  was  struck  more  than  ever  by  her 
beauty,  which  had  impressed  him  at  first  by  its  warmth 
and  exuberance.  Now,  softened  and  chastened  by  sadness, 
the  fire  and  pride  which  had  once  shone  in  her  dark  eyes 
had  given  way  to  a  gentle  pathos  and  appeal  which  touched 
his  kindly  heart.  As  he  bent  over  the  extended  hand  he 
renewed  to  himself  the  vow  he  had  made  to  her  brother 
a  short  while  before. 

"  Viracocha  Cristoval,"  she  said,  with  hesitation,  "  I 
am  sure  that  you  will  pardon  my  sending  for  you.  I  have 
just  learned  that  you  are  going  away." 

"  For  a  short  journey,  Nusta  Rava." 

"  I  pray  it  may  be  a  safe  one,"  she  answered.  "  I  will 
delay  you  only  a  moment.  I  would  ask  if  you  can  tell  me 
aught  of  the  fate  in  store  for  my  brother,  the  Inca."  She 
looked  up  to  him  with  eyes  deepening  with  anxiety,  and 
faltered,  "  Hp  will  say  nothing,  but  I  can  see  his  sadness, 
which  hath  grown  upon  him  with  every  day  of  deferred 
hope  since  the  payment  of  his  ransom.  Hath  he  cause  for 
this?  Do  you  know,  Viracocha  Cristoval?" 

"  I  know  nothing,  Nusta  Rava,  to  cause  him  appre 
hension.  On  the  contrary,  General  Pizarro  hath  renewed 
his  promise  to  give  him  freedom,  and,  we  trust,  in  a  very 
few  days.  I  have  told  him  this,  but  he  rejecteth  the  offered 
hope.  He  saith  he  hath  been  forewarned  of  pending  evil. 
I  know  not  how." 

"Alas!  Said  he  so?"  moaned  the  princess,  her  eyes 
filling.  "  Then  what  I  have  been  told  is  true !  Ah,  my  un 
happy  brather !  "  and  she  sank  sobbing  upon  the  bench. 

"What  hath  she  been  told?"  demanded  Cristoval, 
turning  to  the  maid;  but  the  girl,  too,  was  in  tears,  and 
incapable  of  reply.  He  stepped  to  Rava's  side.  "  Nusta 


120  THE    CRIMSON    CONQUEST 

Rava,"  he  said  urgently,  "  pray  tell  me.  Is  it  anything  of 
evil  from  Pizarro  regarding  the  Inca?  If  so  —  " 

She  shook  her  head.  "  No,  no !  "  she  replied,  brokenly ; 
"  but  a  few  evenings  ago  he  beheld  a  falling  star  of  unusual 
splendor,  and  called  to  mind  that  shortly  before  the  death 
of  our  father  a  similar  sign  was  given.  The  death  of  an 
Inca  is  heralded  by  strange  portents,  Viracocha." 

Cristoval  was  relieved.  "  Nay,  my  princess !  "  he  said 
consolingly,  "  heed  it  not.  Such  signs  are  but  the  wiles  of 
the  devil  —  are  but  chance  appearances.  I  have  seen  a 
thousand  falling  stars.  They  are  for  children  and  old 
women  to  talk  about  at  firesides.  Oh,  I  beg  of  you,  re 
strain  your  tears !  Take  courage !  Hear  me,  Nusta  Rava ! 
De  Soto  and  myself  and  half-a-score  of  others  have  wit 
nessed  Pizarro's  oath  to  set  your  brother  free.  He  awaiteth 
only  assurance  that  your  people  are  at  peace.  A  few  days 
hence  the  Inca  shall  have  his  liberty.  Pizarro  is  a  man  of 
honor." 

She  controlled  herself  with  an  effort,  and,  brushing 
away  her  tears,  presently  looked  up.  "  Forgive  my  weak 
ness,  Viracocha  Cristoval.  I  fear  my  heart  is  overbur 
dened.  One  blow  hath  fallen  upon  another  until  the  world 
is  dark." 

"  I  know  what  your  sorrows  have  been,"  replied  Cris 
toval,  kindly,  "  but  I  believe  one,  at  least,  is  near  its  end." 

"  Oh,  I  thank  you  for  your  words  of  hope !  "  she  mur 
mured.  "  I  feared  that  a  change  in  your  leader's  purpose 
had  brought  my  brother's  heaviness  of  heart.  I  will  try 
to  cheer  him." 

"  Do  so.  Assure  him  that  he  hath  other  friends  among 
Spaniards  besides  myself.  It  is  true." 

"  He  is  sure  of  you,  Viracocha  Cristoval,"  she  said 
gratefully.  "  But  now,  let  me  keep  you  no  longer.  I  heard 
a  trumpet  some  minutes  ago.  It  called  you,  did  it  not?  " 

"  It  called  me,  Nusta  Rava." 


VENGEANCE    FOILED  121 

"  Then  you  must  go.  I  pray  the  Sun  may  brighten 
your  way  and  give  you  safe  return." 

"  Farewell,  and  Heaven  guard  you,  Nusta  Rava !  "  He 
touched  her  fingers  with  his  lips  and  hastened  away. 

As  he  passed  up  the  avenue  the  trumpets  were  sound 
ing  the  "  Mount,"  and  in  his  haste  he  failed  to  notice  a 
burly  figure  in  the  shelter  of  a  by-path.  It  was  Mendoza. 
He  had  been  waiting  Pizarro's  return  from  seeing  the  de 
parture  of  De  Soto's  troop,  and,  presuming  upon  the  com 
mander's  determination  to  make  away  with  the  Jnca,  whom 
Mendoza  already  considered  as  good  as  dead,  he  had  in 
vaded  the  forbidden  precincts  of  the  garden.  Perceiving 
Cristoval  and  the  Princess  Rava,  he  had  stepped  unob 
served  into  the  shrubbery,  and  watched  the  interview  with 
a  scowling  sneer. 

"  Aha,  my  conscientious  buck  cavalier !  "  he  muttered, 
peering  out  as  Cristoval  strode  away.  "  Stolen  meetings 
with  Her  Highness?  Tears  and  kissed  hands  at  parting? 
By  the  fiend,  that  smelleth  of  romance !  —  And  we  have 
been  wondering  at  thy  continence,  thou  cursed  sly  dog, 
whilst  thou  hast  been  spreading  thy  net  for  the  very  pick 
of  the  flock !  Oho !  But  wait !  —  let  us  see,  amigo  mio  I 
Methinks  the  cards  are  to  be  dealt  again,  and  thou  'It  have 
no  hand.  —  And  thou  dost  nurse  so  charitable  an  interest 
in  the  Senorita  Nusta's  brother?  Hum!  And  I  have  stum 
bled  upon  its  source  thus  unexpectedly?  Even  so!  Bienl 
But,  adios,  my  gallant.  Thou  'It  find  more  than  one  change 
on  thy  return  to  Caxamalca,  —  among  others,  a  division 
of  spoil  upon  which  thou  'rt  not  counting,  whereof  I  see  a 
pearl  to  which  I  '11  lay  claim  in  Pizarro's  ear  this  very  morn 
ing. —  She  cometh  this  way,  now !  I  '11  step  out  and  give 
her  greeting.  Curse  me!  why  have  I  not  learned  a  few 
words  of  her  heathen  tongue?  I  know  but  three, —  curt, 
gold;  collque,  silver;  and  chicha.  Good  words,  but  not 
suited  to  the  present  need.  However,  no-importa — let  it 


122  THE    CRIMSON    CONQUEST 

pass.  Much  can  be  said  in  dumb  show.  We'll  make  it 
answer.  Now,  let  us  see  if  we  cannot  be  made  to  forget 
our  Cristoval." 

Giving  a  twirl  to  his  mustachios  and  a  touch  to  the 
sallow  ruff  around  his  neck,  Mendoza  stepped  into  the 
avenue,  and  made  a  well-feigned  start  of  surprise  when  his 
eyes  rested  upon  the  approaching  princess.  Off  came  Men- 
doza's  sombrero,  and  he  bowed  until  its  plume  lay  on  the 
ground. 

"  Your  gracious  Highness,"  he  murmured  in  Spanish, 
with  his  hand  on  his  heart,  "  I  am  your  slave.  The  devil 
take  me  if  I  know  how  to  make  you  understand  it,  but 
't  is  so,  my  lady  bird,  my  chickadee,  and  I  would  swear  it, 
could  I  but  formulate  an  oath  which  you  could  grasp  in 
your  benightedness." 

The  princess,  happily  unconscious  of  the  disrespect  in 
the  words,  but  indignant  at  his  intrusion,  responded  with 
a  barely  perceptible  inclination  of  her  head,  and  passed  on. 
But  Mendoza  was  not  to  be  easily  rebuffed.  Striding  after 
her,  he  gained  her  side. 

"  But  stay,  my  haughty  pagan  lady ! "  he  exclaimed, 
his  forced  smile  only  half  concealing  the  wickedness  in  his 
eyes.  "  Not  so  fast,  pretty  one !  Let  us  talk ;  —  or  if  we 
cannot  talk,  let  us  make  signs.  Carambal  Let  us  be 
acquainted !  "  and  he  placed  his  hand  upon  her  arm. 

The  princess  shrank  as  if  from  a  reptile,  turning  with 
a  look  of  indignant  scorn  that  daunted  even  the  case- 
hardened  Mendoza,  while  a  scream  from  the  maid  brought 
him  fully  to  his  senses.  He  halted,  and  Rava  went  her 
way  with  burning  cheeks,  leaving  the  Spaniard  staring 
after  her  discomfited. 

"Jesttl"  he  exclaimed,  beneath  his  breath.  He  replaced 
his  sombrero  over  one  ear  and  spread  his  legs  wide  apart, 
one  hand  upon  his  hip,  the  other  depressing  the  hilt  of  his 
rapier  until  its  point  rose  to  the  level  of  his  shoulder. 


VENGEANCE   FOILED  123 

"  Caral  There  is  a  sudden  chilliness  hereabouts.  Did  I 
feel  a  cool  breeze  from  the  mountains,  or  was  it  a  freezing 
glance?  No  matter,  Senorita  Nusta  Rava,  my  dark  beauty 
—  no  matter !  We  '11  score  that  in  the  account  against  this 
Cristoval.  And,  withal,  proud  loveliness  is  much  to  my 
taste.  There's  a  zest  in  subjugating. — Holal  Who  the 
devil  is  this?" 

Pedro,  crossing  the  lower  end  of  the  court,  had  met 
the  princess,  and  noticing  her  indignation  and  the  trepi 
dation  of  her  maid,  suspected  that  some  drunken  soldier 
had  been  trespassing.  He  stepped  quickly  through  the 
shrubbery  and  came  upon  Mendoza,  still  in  his  jaunty 
pose.  Pedro  divined  the  situation  in  the  instant.  Halting, 
he  tilted  his  toque  over  his  ear,  placed  his  hand  upon  his 
hip,  spread  his  good  leg  wide  from  its  fellow,  and  stood 
surveying  Mendoza  with  concentrated  insolence,  in  a  gro 
tesque  caricature  of  the  latter's  attitude.  Mendoza,  in 
turn,  regarded  the  cook  in  surprise,  then  colored  with 
anger  as  he  realized  the  tableau  in  which  he  was  taking 
part.  He  adjusted  himself  hastily  and  opened  his  lips  to 
deliver  an  imprecation  upon  the  cook's  head.  He  thought 
better  of  it,  remembering  Pizarro's  ster,n  order  against  in 
trusion  upon  the  privacy  of  the  garden,  and  an  injunction, 
yet  more  stern,  against  affronting  the  women  of  the  court. 
He  swallowed  the  curse  for  discretion's  sake,  and  in  the 
effort  produced  a  grimace  which  he  hoped  Pedro  might 
accept  for  a  smile. 

"  Thou  'rt  a  droll  fellow,  Pedro,"  he  said  with  forced 
lightness,  and  stalked  away.  Pedro  followed  him  with  his 
eyes,  his  attitude  unchanged. 

"  Ah !  "  he  growled.  "  A  droll  fellow,  am  I  not,  thou 
scurvy  picaroon!  Had  I  my  blade  thou  shouldst  find  me 
twice  more  droll,  my  dastardly  rough-handler  of  women, 
for  I  would  tickle  thy  ribs  most  humorously  before  thou 
shouldst  leave  this  garden.  Slink  off,  caught-dog !  I  '11 


i24  THE    CRIMSON    CONQUEST 

have  an  eye  on  thee.  —  A  droll  fellow!  By  the  faith,  it 
must  be  so,  for  naught  but  drollery  could  wrench  a  smile 
so  misbegotten,  crump,  and  bandy  as  that  of  thine !  Thou 
didst  grin  like  a  kicked  hat.  An  old  boot  could  smile  more 
mirthfully.  Pedro  must  be  droll,  to  give  thee  such  a  toad's 
smirk,  Mendoza !  "  He  straightened  his  toque  and  stumped 
back  to  his  quarters. 

Meanwhile  De  Soto's  troop,  with  armor  glinting, 
guidon  and  pennons  fluttering,  and  trumpets  sounding  a 
spirited  quickstep,  marched  out  of  the  square  on  its  way 
to  Guamachucho.  At  the  end  of  the  second  day  the  Span 
iards  entered  the  town.  They  found  it  a  small  place,  un 
fortified,  and  without  a  sign  of  the  reported  rising  of  the 
people. 

A  thorough  reconnaissance  of  the  country  about  occu 
pied  the  next  two  days,  for  De  Soto  was  determined  that 
no  doubt  concerning  its  quiet  should  remain.  At  midnight 
of  the  second  day  he  was  seated  with  Cristoval  in  the 
latter's  quarters,  discussing  the  expedition  and  planning 
for  the  morrow,  to  be  spent  in  reconnoitring  the  country 
farther  south,  —  then  a  day  of  rest,  and  the  return  march 
to  Caxamalca.  Cristoval  rose  to  make  his  rounds  when 
they  heard  a  hurried  step  in  the  patio,  and  a  soldier  entered, 
followed  by  a  chasqat.  The  youth  was  breathing  heavily, 
and  as  he  entered  the  lamplight  his  body  glistened  with 
perspiration. 

"  The  Viracocha  Cristoval?  "  panted  the  cfiasqut,  look 
ing  from  one  to  the  other  and  drawing  a  paper  from  his 
pouch. 

"  Here !  "  said  Cristoval.  Taking  the  paper,  he  hastily 
broke  the  seal,  reading  the  contents  with  alarm  and  rage. 
He  finished  and  thrust  it  toward  De  Soto,  who  was  anx 
iously  watching  his  expression. 

"  Read  that,  Soto !  "  he  shouted,  "  and  learn  the  black 
treachery  we  have  left  behind !  " 


VENGEANCE   FOILED  125 

De  Soto  seized  the  paper.    It  was  from  Pedro. 

"  CRISTOVAL  :  The  Inca  hath  been  brought  to  trial. 
Return  with  all  speed.  It  is  said  that  his  conviction  is 
determined,  and  that  he  is  to  be  burned  at  the  stake. 

"PEDRO." 

De  Soto  looked  up  at  his  friend,  their  faces  reflecting 
consternation  and  anger. 

"  'T  is  for  this  Pizarro  ordered  us  away  —  curse 
his  perfidious  heart ! "  cried  De  Soto. 

"  A  thousand  times  curse  him ! "  exclaimed  Cristoval. 
"By  Heaven,  if  'tis  true,  I'll  kill  him!  Soto,  I  go  to 
Caxamalca!  Juan,  have  my  horse  saddled!  Pronto! — 
quick !  "  he  commanded,  and  hurried  to  his  room.  De  Soto 
reread  the  message,  muttered  an  oath,  and  followed  him 
out.  He  met  Cristoval  buckling  on  his  rapier. 

"  Hold,  Peralta !  "  he  exclaimed ;  "  thou  'rt  not  going 
thus,  without  thy  harness !  Wear  thy  corselet,  at  least." 

"  No !    I  '11  ride  light,"  returned  Cristoval. 

"  Wait !  come  to  my  room,"  said  De  Soto.  Hurriedly 
opening  his  portmanteau,  he  drew  out  a  package  wrapped 
in  oiled  silk.  He  cut  its  fastenings  with  his  dagger  and 
unrolled  a  shirt  of  chain-mail.  "Here!  Off  with  thy 
doublet  and  on  with  this.  It  is  Moorish,  and  of  the  best. 
It  may  serve  thee,  as  it  hath  many  times  served  me." 

It  was  on  in  a  moment,  and  Cristoval  quickly  resumed 
his  doublet.  His  horse  was  already  at  the  door,  surrounded 
by  three  or  four  troopers,  tightening  buckles  and  rubbing 
his  legs,  for  he  had  been  under  saddle  since  morning. 

"  Adios,  Peralta !  "  said  the  captain,  grasping  his  lieu 
tenant's  hand.  "  Be  not  rash,  and  guard  thyself  until  I 
come.  I  will  follow  at  dawn." 

Cristoval  made  no  reply  to  the  warning.  "  Farewell, 
Soto,"  he  said,  and  swung  into  the  saddle. 

Soon  he  was  in  the  open  country,  his  horse's  hoofs 


126  THE    CRIMSON    CONQUEST 

ringing  on  the  pavement  of  the  great  highway  in  a  rhythm 
which  he  knew  would  not  vary  for  miles.  Shadowy  trees 
swept  by,  cottages  and  groves  were  dimly  seen  and  left 
behind.  The  walls  of  a  chasqui-post  threw  back  a  short 
chorus  of  reverberations,  and  were  lost  again  in  the  dark 
ness  and  silence.  Presently  the  streets  of  a  village  clam 
ored  with  the  measure,  and  relapsed  into  stillness  before 
the  startled  peasant  could  open  his  door.  Onward  he  flew, 
the  night  breeze  fanning  his  hot  cheeks,  the  words  of 
Pedro's  message  repeating  themselves  over  and  over  in 
the  cadence  of  the  gallop :  "  The  Inca  brought  to  trial  — 
Return  with  all  speed.  The  Inca  brought  to  trial  —  return 
with  all  speed !  "  —  while  a  thousand  thoughts  mingled 
with  the  refrain,  chasing  one  another  through  his  fevered 
mind,  with  a  deep  undertone  of  purposed  vengeance  if  evil 
had  befallen  the  captive  prince. 

Mile  after  mile  down  the  sleeping  valley,  and  at  last 
the  gray  of  dawn.  Another  half-league  brought  him  to  a 
hamlet.  The  people  were  astir,  and  smoke  was  rising  from 
their  cottages.  He  halted  at  one  and  dismounted,  the  vil 
lagers  staring  from  their  doors.  His  horse  drooped  his 
head,  nostrils  wide.  Cristoval  surveyed  him  with  anxiety. 
No  help  for  it,  he  must  rest.  A  cottager  advanced  from 
his  door  with  a  friendly  morning  greeting  and  offered  his 
hospitality.  The  cavalier  accepted  with  gratitude,  found 
grain  for  his  horse,  and  an  hour  later  was  once  more  in  the 
saddle.  The  rest  and  refreshment  had  done  much  for  both 
steed  and  rider,  but  the  leagues  were  covered  slowly,  for 
the  animal  was  weary  and  his  flanks  in  lather.  The  halt 
had  given  a  brief  respite  to  Cristoval's  sombre  thoughts, 
but  as  he  looked  forward  down  the  valley  they  returned 
with  full  force ;  and  when,  late  in  the  day,  he  descried  dis 
tant  Caxamalca,  the  fever  of  his  anxiety  and  rage  came 
back  with  double  strength.  At  last  he  was  in  the  suburbs 
of  the  town,  urging  his  exhausted  horse  to  fresh  speed. 


VENGEANCE   FOILED  127 

He  reined  up  before  a  sentinel.     The  halberdier  saluted, 
and  Cristoval  demanded  hoarsely :  — 

"  What  of  the  Inca?  Am  I  in  time  —  doth  he  live?  " 
With  exasperating  deliberation  the  infantryman  or 
dered  his  weapon ;  raised  his  hand  without  a  word,  clutched 
his  throat,  distorted  his  face  into  a  hideous  grimace,  and 
emitting  a  gurgle,  closed  his  eyes  and  lopped  his  head  to 
one  side.  Then  he  opened  his  eyes  and  resumed  his  posi 
tion,  surveying  the  blowing  steed  with  critical  interest. 
Cristoval  turned  pale. 

"  Speak,  fellow!  "  he  shouted.  "  What  of  the  Inca?  " 
"  Dead !  "  returned  the  soldier.  "  Garroted !  Gone  to 
join  his  fathers  in  the  mansions  of  the  Sun,  say  the 
Indies ;  but  't  is  more  like,"  he  continued,  as  Cristoval 
put  spurs  to  his  horse  and  galloped  away  with  an  oath, 
"  't  is  more  like  he  hath  gone  to  hell  —  and  mayst  thou 
follow  him!" 

With  jaws  set,  lips  compressed,  and  oblivious  of  the 
pedestrians,  Spaniards  and  Indies,  who  barely  escaped 
being  run  down,  Cristoval  careered  madly  up  the  narrow 
street  and  across  the  plaza  to  the  palace.  Reining  up  so 
sharply  that  his  horse  went  back  upon  his  haunches,  he 
threw  himself  from  the  saddle,  and  ordering  a  soldier  to 
look  after  the  animal,  strode  into  the  building. 

He  had  an  indistinct  impression  of  passing  Mendoza, 
of  an  expression  of  surprise  on  the  soldiers  of  the  guard 
in  the  great  hall,  of  a  hurried  salute  from  the  sentinel  in 
front  of  Pizarro's  office  as  he  crossed  the  anteroom,  and 
he  jerked  open  the  door  and  stood  before  the  commander. 
Pizarro  in  half-armor  was  seated  at  his  table,  facing  the 
entrance.  At  the  end  of  the  table  on  his  left  was  his 
sergeant-major,  Dominguez.  Both  looked  up  in  astonish 
ment  at  Cristoval's  precipitate  intrusion,  the  surprise  on 
Pizarro's  face  followed  quickly  by  a  scowl  of  displeasure. 
Surveying  Cristoval  coldly  for  a  moment,  he  asked:  — 


128 

"  Well,  what  dost  thou  here,  Peralta?  I  thought  thee 
at  Guamachucho.  Where  is  thy  troop?  " 

Ignoring  the  question,  Cristoval  advanced  to  the  table 
and  leaned  forward. 

"  Is  this  report  true  that  I  have  heard?  "  he  demanded 
in  a  tense  voice.  "  Hast  slain  the  Inca?  " 

Pizarro's  scowl  deepened  at  the  bluntness,  but  after  a 
moment,  in  which  he  seemed  to  hesitate  whether  or  not 
to  resent  it,  he  answered  shortly,  "  The  Inca  hath  expiated 
his  crimes." 

Cristoval  was  fully  prepared  for  the  reply,  but  it  came, 
nevertheless,  with  a  shock.  His  face  paled,  then  flushed 
hotly.  Unconsciously  he  hitched  the  hilt  of  his  sword  a 
trifle  forward.  The  motion  was  not  unnoted  by  Pizarro, 
who  now  watched  him  with  the  vigilance  of  a  hawk. 
Cristoval's  voice  shook  as  he  returned,  with  suppressed 
vehemence : — 

"  Hath  expiated  his  crimes !  Then  it  is  true !  —  and 
thou  hast  put  upon  the  arms  of  Spain  a  blot  which  a  hun 
dred  years  will  not  efface.  Great  God !  Was  not  the 
atrocity  of  the  plaza  enough  to  glut  thee?  I  tell  thee, 
Pizarro,  thou  hast  done  foul  murder !  —  Hath  expiated  his 
crimes,  sayst  thou !  —  Hath  received  the  penalty  of  trust 
ing  a  thing  so  scant  and  beggarly  as  thine  honor,  which, 
by  Saint  Michael,  did  underfit  thee,  thou  perjured  and 
lying  miscreant,  when  thou  wast  a  swineherd ! " 

Pizarro  had  risen.  He  was  silent,  but  the  deathly 
pallor  of  his  countenance  and  the  sudden  cat-like  contrac 
tion  of  the  pupils  of  his  eyes,  burning  with  animosity  in 
the  shadow  of  his  scowl,  spoke  his  rage  more  plainly  than 
an  outburst.  And  they  were  more  dangerously  significant. 
A  scar  across  his  forehead,  which  Cristoval  had  never  noted 
before,  now  showed  itself  in  a  thin  line  and  blue,  the  color 
of  his  lips.  The  sparse  black  beard  seemed  more  than  ever 
straggling  against  the  sickly  yellow-white  of  his  cheeks, 


VENGEANCE    FOILED  129 

and  the  muscles  about  his  mouth  twitched  in  a  ferocious 
semblance  of  a  grin,  as  if  to  bare  his  teeth.  But  he  spoke 
no  word.  He  grasped  for  his  sword.  It  was  not  at  his 
side,  and  with  a  curse  he  leaped  toward  his  chamber  where 
it  lay.  Dominguez  sprang  to  his  feet  with  sword  half 
drawn.  Pizarro  shouted  to  him  in  a  voice  of  fury :  — 

"  Call  the  guard!  Kill  him,  Dominguez!  Kill  him!  " 
Dominguez  dashed  to  the  door  and  threw  it  open, 
calling :  "  Ho,  the  guard !  The  guard !  "  and  turned  upon 
Cristoval  with  his  sword.  The  latter  sprang  forward  to 
meet  him,  and  engaged  his  blade  before  he  had  made  a 
step.  There  was  a  second's  sharp  play,  and  Dominguez 
went  down  with  a  groan,  senseless  from  a  cut  which  laid 
open  his  head.  The  sentinel  rushed  in,  and  stood  for  an 
instant  transfixed. 

"Kill  him!  Kill  him,  dolt!  Why  standest  thou?" 
bellowed  Pizarro,  charging  from  his  door  sword  in  hand. 
The  soldier  stepped  back  and  swung  his  halberd.  The 
weapon  swished  viciously,  narrowly  avoided  by  a  side 
step,  and  before  he  could  recover  for  another  stroke  Cris 
toval  closed  upon  him  and  ran  him  through.  Then,  throw 
ing  his  weight  against  the  heavy  door,  he  closed  it  with  a 
bang  and  shot  the  bolt.  Pizarro  was  upon  him,  and  he 
sprang  back  barely  in  time  to  avoid  a  lunge.  So  impetuous 
was  the  commander's  onslaught  that  Cristoval  was  forced 
several  paces  to  the  rear,  put  to  his  best  to  ward  the  rapid 
cuts  and  thrusts  which  followed.  Pizarro,  unaware  of  the 
mail  beneath  his  adversary's  doublet,  and  emboldened  by 
the  security  in  his  own  armor,  threw  caution  to  the  winds. 
He  crowded  with  dire  impatience  to  avenge  the  recent 
insult.  He  attacked  like  a  demon,  pressing  forward  in  so 
fierce  and  disorderly  assault  that  Cristoval's  defence  was 
for  a  time  disorganized  and  wild.  He  strove  desperately 
to  gather  himself,  and  to  feel  and  hold  Pizarro's  blade 
with  his  own,  or  to  check  his  impetuosity  by  riposte;  but 

9 


I3o  THE    CRIMSON    CONQUEST 

for  the  last  there  was  no  time,  and  the  savage  lunges  came 
in  so  swift  succession  that  he  avoided  them  only  by  giving 
ground,  until  he  was  driven  back  almost  to  the  wall.  At 
last  Pizarro,  feinting  a  cut  at  his  head,  reached  him  with 
the  point  full  in  the  breast,  so  heavily  that  the  blade,  catch 
ing  in  the  links  of  the  mail,  bent  nearly  double,  and  Cris- 
toval  was  hurled  by  the  impact  bodily  against  the  wall. 
At  the  unlooked-for  resistance  encountered  by  his  sword 
and  its  revelation  of  the  unsuspected  armor,  the  com 
mander  uttered  a  grunt  of  surprise,  suddenly  aware  of  the 
rashness  of  his  attack.  He  paused  for  the  briefest  instant. 
It  was  Cristoval's  opportunity,  and  in  a  second  he  had 
assumed  the  offensive  with  a  vigor  that  caused  a  sudden 
deepening  of  the  lines  around  his  opponent's  mouth. 

Pizarro  was  a  good  swordsman,  but  of  a  school  which, 
in  Europe,  was  already  passing.  His  guard  was  high,  with 
point  depressed,  most  suitable  for  his  favorite  attack, 
the  cut.  Now  Cristoval,  abruptly  becoming  the  aggressor, 
brought  into  play  a  later  skill  acquired  from  the  French. 
He  assaulted  on  a  lower  line,  with  arm  partly  extended, 
hand  at  the  height  of  his  breast,  and  point  on  a  level  with 
the  eyes.  Instantly  the  advantage  became  his  own,  and 
he  pressed  his  attack  with  such  fierceness  that  Pizarro 
found  no  opportunity  to  regain  the  offensive.  Compelled 
tp  lower  his  guard  to  engage  Cristoval's  blade,  he  was 
hampered  by  the  unwonted  position.  The  weight  of  his 
rapier  counted  against  him,  and  he  was  unprepared  for 
the  lightning  movements  of  Cristoval's  more  slender  and 
swifter  sword,  which  played  before  his  eyes  like  a  thin 
lambent  tongue  of  pale  flame. 

Cristoval  in  his  mail,  and  Pizarro  defended  by  his 
corselet,  the  only  vulnerable  points  offered  were  their 
throats  and  heads.  Here,  again,  the  commander  was  at 
a  disadvantage.  With  that  keen,  swift  point  menacing 
and  perilously  near,  he  dared  not  disengage  for  a  cut. 


VENGEANCE    FOILED  131 

Repeatedly  he  essayed  a  thrust,  but  each  time  a  riposte 
came  like  a  flash,  barely  guarded.  Cristoval  directed  his  at 
tack  wholly  at  his  adversary's  throat,  and  time  after  time 
Pizarro  escaped  a  fatal  thrust  only  by  a  hair's  breadth.  But 
at  length  he  felt  a  quick  sensation  of  burning  as  he  was 
grazed,  then  presently  another.  Goaded  to  desperation, 
he  cut  heavily  at  Cristoval's  head.  Vainly,  and  again  the 
burning  sting,  this  time  deeper,  and  he  felt  the  hot  blood 
trickling  slowly  to  his  breast.  Savagely  exultant,  Cris 
toval  pressed  him  more  closely,  eager  to  end  it  before  his 
own  strength  gave  out,  for  now  he  began  to  feel  the  effect 
of  the  long  night  in  the  saddle. 

So  intent  was  he  that  he  failed  to  note  the  sounds  of 
an  effort  to  open  the  door,  but  they  did  not  escape  Pizarro. 
Cristoval  redoubled  the  energy  of  his  assaults,  not  free 
from  concern  regarding  Dominguez,  who  was  but  slightly 
wounded  and  now  showed  signs  of  returning  animation. 

Pizarro  had  been  forced  back  upon  a  corner  of  his 
table,  when  the  door  rattled  again,  and  after  a  few  seconds 
resounded  with  a  crashing  blow.  There  were  shouts  out 
side,  and  the  blow  was  repeated.  Again,  and  this  time  it 
was  accompanied  by  a  rending,  splitting  sound,  and  Cris 
toval  knew  that  it  was  being  battered  in.  He  saw  Pizarro's 
face  brighten,  then  both  redoubled  the  vigor  of  their  blood- 
seeking  work.  Cristoval  was  desperate  at  the  thought  of 
interruption.  The  commander  was  now  intent  only  upon 
defence  until  the  promised  rescue  should  reach  him.  Both 
combatants  were  breathing  heavily  and  reeking  with  sweat. 
Blow  followed  blow  upon  the  door,  and  now  a  burst  of 
splinters  succeeded  every  impact. 

The  meaning  of  this.  Mendoza  was  leaving  the 
palace  when  Cristoval  rushed  in.  He  looked  after  the 
cavalier  in  astonishment,  surmising  at  first  that  he  had  re^ 
turned  with  important  news,  perhaps  confirmation  of  the 
rumors  of  an  uprising.  But  Mendoza  passed  out,  intending 


132  THE    CRIMSON    CONQUEST 

to  return  as  soon  as  practicable.  As  he  crossed  the  square, 
however,  he  recalled  Cristoval's  expression,  which  was  one 
of  hot  passion  recently  aroused,  as  was  evident  from 
his  flushed  face  and  blazing  eyes.  Half-way  across  the 
plaza  he  halted,  considered  a  moment,  then  returned  to 
the  palace.  Crossing  the  great  hall,  he  hurried  direct  to 
Pizarro's  anteroom  and  looked  in.  The  sentinel  was  not 
at  his  post.  He  hesitated  briefly,  traversed  the  apart 
ment,  and  quietly  tried  the  door.  It  was  fast.  He  listened 
and  heard  rapidly  shuffling  feet,  no  voices,  and  the  clash 
of  steel.  He  tried  the  door  again,  then  rushed  to  the 
guard-room. 

"  Hola,  soldiers !  "  he  shouted.  "  Follow !  There  is 
trouble  in  the  general's  room !  "  and  he  dashed  back,  fol 
lowed  by  the  guard.  At  the  door  they  halted. 

"  Listen!  "  commanded  Mendoza.  "  Do  ye  hear  it?  — 
There  is  fighting  within !  "  He  threw  himself  against  the 
heavy  door.  "  Furies  of  hell !  Lay  on  here,  men !  we  must 
break  through ! " 

Again  and  again  they  hurled  themselves  against  the 
resisting  wood  without  avail,  wild  now  with  excitement. 
Pikes  and  halberds  were  brought  to  bear,  thrust  into 
the  cracks  to  prize  it  open,  Mendoza  urging  and  swearing. 
In  vain!  That  door  had  been  built  by  Pizarro's  direc 
tion,  to  guard  the  treasure  lying  in  the  room  beyond  his 
office. 

"  Fetch  a  timber !  "  shouted  Mendoza,  "  A  beam  — 
anything  heavy !  Go !  Jump  about  it !  "  He  sprang  at 
the  soldiers,  waving  his  arms,  and  they  went  out  with 
a  rush.  There  were  no  timbers  but  the  beams  of  the 
ceilings.  They  were  inaccessible.  Finally  Mendoza  cried, 
"  A  bench-top  from  the  garden !  Veloz  I  Veloz  I ' ' 

It  was  brought  by  as  many  as  could  lay  hands  upon 
it.  They  hurried  into  the  anteroom  and  charged  the 
door.  Candia  had  rushed  in,  stared  for  a  second,  and 


VENGEANCE    FOILED  133 

thinking  a  mutiny  had  arisen,  drew  his  sword  and  collared 
a  soldier. 

"  Here ! "  he  shouted,  jerking  the  man  around, 
"what's  to  do?" 

The  soldier  wrenched  himself  free,  shouting  back  ex 
citedly,  "  Hell  is  to  do!  Peralta  is  loco,  and  is  murdering 
the  general ! " 

"Santa  Maria  I"  ejaculated   Candia. 

Now  the  door  was  tottering,  and  another  blow  brought 
it  down.  The  crowd  surged  through,  led  by  Mendoza, 
Candia  following  close.  Pizarro's  drawn,  anxious  face 
and  labored  breathing  showed  that  he  was  desperately 
hard  pressed.  Cristoval  with  merciless,  silent  deter 
mination  upon  his  death,  was  pushing  him  closely,  but 
Weariness  clogged  his  movements,  and  the  fatal  thrust 
Was  undelivered.  Neither  of  the  combatants  seemed  to 
see  the  inrush  of  the  soldiers.  Cristoval's  back  was 
toward  them,  and  Mendoza  drove  at  him  without  a  word, 
putting  all  his  strength  and  hate  into  a  lunge  with  which 
he  meant  to  settle  all  scores.  His  point  caught  in  the 
links  of  the  mail,  the  blade  bent  and  snapped  close  at 
the  hilt.  The  lunge  whirled  Cristoval  half  around  and 
sent  him  full  length  upon  the  floor.  Pizarro  sank  back 
against  the  wall  in  exhaustion,  while  Mendoza  drew  his 
dagger  and  with  an  oath  sprang  upon  his  prostrate  enemy. 
Before  he  could  use  it  Candia  had  seized  him,  hurled 
him  back,  and  stood  over  Cristoval,  facing  the  circle  of 
soldiers. 

Pizarro,  half  inarticulate  with  weariness  and  rage, 
found  breath  enough  to  gasp:  "Kill  him!  Kill  him! 
—  In  God's  name !  —  will  none  of  you  put  an  end  to  that 
accursed  mutineer?  " 

The  circle  closed  a  bit  nearer,  but  Candia  poised 
his  sword,  and  they  hesitated.  Cristoval  had  regained 
his  feet  and  placed  himself  back  to  the  wall,  panting,  but 


134 

undismayed.  At  this  juncture  Almagro  hurried  in  and 
breaking  through  the  crowd,  demanded :  — 

"  What  is  this?  Our  swords  turned  against  one 
another?  What  meaneth  it?  "  He  was  answered  by  an 
excited  and  unintelligible  chorus.  Pizarro  started  for 
ward,  his  face  distorted  with  frenzy. 

"  Kill  him,  I  say,  ye  damned  gawping  sheep !  "  he 
bellowed  again.  "What!  —  will  ye  disobey?  Fall  upon 
him,  or  I  '11  flay  you  to  the  last  man ! " 

"  Nay !  "  interposed  Almagro.  "  Stand  back !  All  in 
good  time  and  order.  Peralta,  thou  'rt  a  prisoner.  Take 
him  away,  Candia." 

"  Out  of  the  way,  Almagro ! "  thundered  Pizarro, 
struggling  to  pass  him.  "  I  '11  have  his  life !  Strike  him 
down,  ye  dogs !  " 

"  Away  with  him,  Candia !  "  commanded  Almagro, 
sturdily  opposing  the  general  and  thrusting  him  back. 
"  Fall  in  about  him,  men,  and  make  him  secure." 

"  Come !  "  said  Candia,  in  a  low  voice,  and  seizing 
Cristoval  by  the  arm,  hurried  him  out,  surrounded  by 
a  dozen  pikes,  leaving  Almagro  to  quiet  the  infuriated 
Pizarro.  In  the  hall  outside  Cristoval  surrendered  his 
sword. 

Word  of  the  affair  spread  rapidly  over  the  town, 
and  as  prisoner  and  escort  left  the  palace  they  encoun 
tered  a  throng  already  gathered  at  the  door,  held  back 
by  the  crossed  halberds  of  the  sentinels,  whom  they  be 
sieged  with  questions.  As  Cristoval  stepped  out,  still 
breathing  heavily  and  disordered  from  the  struggle,  their 
clamor  ceased,  and  they  stared  at  him  in  silence,  hardly 
able  to  believe  they  beheld  the  stanch  Cristoval  in  arrest 
for  having  turned  his  sword  against  his  general. 

"Insano  —  gone  mad!"  muttered  an  old  arquebusier, 
and  his  neighbors  agreed  to  it  as  the  only  explanation. 

Cristoval  saw  them  only  vaguely,  and  scarcely  heeded 


VENGEANCE   FOILED  135 

the  groups  passed  on  his  march  across  the  square.  At 
the  doors  of  the  building  at  its  lower  end  which  had  been 
put  into  service  as  a  prison  he  halted  mechanically, 
marched  again  at  the  command  when  the  doors  had  been 
swung  open,  and  only  awoke  to  himself  when,  having 
traversed  the  patio,  he  was  led  into  one  of  the  rooms 
opening  upon  it  and  felt  the  oppression  of  its  sudden 
chill  and  gloom.  The  old  sergeant  of  the  guard  eyed 
him  gravely  for  a  few  seconds,  then  shook  his  head  and 
retired.  The  door  swung  heavily  shut,  and  Cristoval 
was  alone. 


CHAPTER   XIII 
Cristoval  a  Prisoner 

CRISTOVAL  stood  near  the  door.    His  eyes  grew 
accustomed  to  the  obscurity  and  travelled  over 
the  room  and  its  furnishing;  but  his  mind,  occu 
pied   by   a   tumultuous    review   of  the   incidents 
just  past,   received   little  impression.     In  the  middle   of 
the  room  stood  a  table,  and  near  it  two  or  three  stools. 
Along  the  wall  at  the  rear  was  a  stone  bench,  and  in  a 
corner  a  small  heap  of  straw,  the  bed  of  some  former 
prisoner.    The  fragments  of  a  water  jar  littered  the  table, 
with   bits  of  mouldering   corn-bread.     The  low,   heavily 
timbered  ceiling,  with  the  great  thickness  of  the  walls 
and  the  little  air  from  the  two  small  windows,  made  the 
atmosphere   chill,   stifling,   and   oppressive   as   that   of  a 
cellar. 

He  walked  to  the  table  and  stood  leaning  against  it, 
the  disorder  of  his  thoughts  gradually  yielding  to  grief 
for  the  ill-fated  prince  whose  long  durance  he  had  light 
ened  with  his  companionship.  He  realized  now  that  his 
friendship  for  Atahualpa  had  grown  stronger  than  he  had 
been  aware,  and  he  felt  an  unexpected  sense  of  loss. 
Slowly  his  sorrow  was  succeeded  by  a  storm  of  bitter 
resentment  at  Pizarro's  perfidy,  and  he  raged  at  his  failure 
to  avenge  it.  Every  detail  of  the  encounter  presented 
itself  to  his  mind  —  the  moments  when  the  commander's 
life  had  been  almost  in  his  hand,  the  interruption  which 
had  foiled  him  at  the  instant  of  vengeance ;  and  he  stamped 


CRISTOVAL   A   PRISONER  137 

fiercely,  impatiently,  heaping  curses  upon  those  who  had 
baffled  him,  and  grinding  his  teeth  at  his  present  help 
lessness.  More  bitter  still  was  the  memory  of  the  sacred 
obligation  imposed  upon  him  by  the  monarch  at  their 
final  interview,  and  his  inability,  now,  to  acquit  it.  The 
peril  to  Rava  foreseen  by  Atahualpa  was  upon  her.  She 
was  without  a  defender,  and  at  the  mercy  of  her  brother's 
murderers.  Her  fate  seemed  certain.  Cristoval  sank  upon 
a  chair:  sprang  to  his  feet  again,  and  looked  about  him, 
this  time  noting  every  feature  of  his  surroundings,  the 
walls  of  granite,  the  flagged  floor,  the  small  windows, 
high  up  and  recently  barred  by  Pizarro's  order,  and  the 
massive  door,  guarded  without,  as  he  knew,  by  a  sen 
tinel  whose  life  depended  upon  his  vigilance.  He  made 
a  tour  of  the  room  with  rapid  steps,  minutely  scruti 
nizing  every  detail,  driven  not  by  the  sense  of  his  own 
danger,  but  by  that  of  the  unhappy  girl  entrusted  to  his 
guarding.  There  was  not  a  crack  between  the  blocks 
of  stone  into  which  he  could  have  forced  the  point  of  a 
poniard.  There  was  no  escape. 

The  other  phase  of  the  situation  came  upon  him.  Not 
only  was  he  a  prisoner,  but  a  prisoner  under  sentence  of 
death.  He  knew  Pizarro  well  enough  to  be  sure  of  that. 
He  must  die.  Not  even  De  Soto's  power  could  save  him. 
He  had  sought  the  life  of  his  commander.  He  was  a 
mutineer. 

For  an  instant  he  was  seized  of  a  sudden  weakness, 
and  sank  again  upon  a  chair  with  a  shuddering  glare  at 
vacancy.  Doomed!  He  sat  long,  motionless,  his  facul 
ties  numbed.  The  air  oppressed  his  breathing.  Dark 
ness  closed  about  him  and  bore  down  upon  his  soul  as 
if  tangible.  His  strength  was  gone,  and  though  he  sat 
bolt  upright  he  had  the  sensation  of  tottering.  His  mind 
ceased  to  act,  absorbed  and  fascinated  by  the  terror  called 
death. 


i38  THE    CRIMSON    CONQUEST 

He  was  roused,  long  afterward,  it  seemed,  though 
but  minutes  had  flown,  by  the  sound  of  footsteps  and 
the  opening  door.  Two  halberdiers  entered,  followed 
by  the  sergeant  and  two  armorer's  assistants  bearing 
manacles  and  fetters,  a  portable  forge,  and  an  anvil.  The 
door  closed,  and  the  group  surveyed  the  prisoner  as  if 
he  were  a  captured  lion.  Cristoval  rose  slowly  and  stood 
regarding  them  with  apathy.  The  sergeant  spoke. 

"  Senor  Teniente  Peralta,  we  have  an  unpleasant 
duty  —  "  He  hesitated,  and  Cristoval  waited  in  silence. 

"  The  armorers  here,"  continued  the  sergeant,  "  have 
a  few  trinkets  which  it  is  ordered  you  are  to  wear  — 
temporarily."  He  paused  again,  and  Cristoval  wondered 
vaguely  why  such  a  trifle  should  embarrass  his  speech. 
Fetters  —  what  were  they  in  the  presence  of  the  thought 
of  death! 

The  sergeant  resumed :  "  I  trust  you  will  give  us  no 
trouble,  Senor.  It  is  near  supper-time,  and  you  know 
what  that  meaneth  to  a  man  already  twenty  hours  on 
guard.  I  had  hoped  this  might  be  deferred  until  the  new 
guard  cometh  on,  but  the  general  seemeth  burdened  with 
an  anxiety  to  know  you  are  secure  —  so  here  we  are. 
Now,  what  say  you?  —  shall  it  be  done  quietly,  or  must 
I  have  a  squad  of  pikemen  ?  " 

For  answer,  Cristoval  turned  up  his  sleeves  and 
offered  his  wrists. 

"  Ah !  Bueno  I  "  said  the  sergeant,  with  relief.  "  That 
is  what  I  like  to  see.  When  a  man  must  take  his  physic, 
why  not  do  so  gracefully?  I  have  observed  that  it  marketh 
the  distinction  between  a  caballero  and  a  yokel.  You 
are  a  good  soldier,  Senor  Cristoval:  I  have  always  said 
it.  —  Armorers,  set  about  it.  —  Would  you  believe  me, 
Senor  —  the  last  man  I  saw  ironed  took  four  to  hold 
him!  But  he  was  a  creature  of  base  instincts.  Now, 
men,  be  expeditious!" 


CRISTOVAL   A   PRISONER  139 

In  half  an  hour  the  irons  were  securely  riveted  to 
Cristoval's  wrists  and  ankles,  and  the  sergeant  was  ex 
pressing  his  appreciation  of  the  prisoner's  forbearance, 
when  he  broke  off  abruptly,  clapped  his  hand  to  his  fore 
head,  and  stared  at  a  rent  in  Cristoval's  doublet. 

"Ah,  Cielo!"  he  cried.  "Why  was  I  equipped  with 
mud  in  the  place  of  brains !  —  And  you,  too,  ye  num 
skulls  —  where  are  your  wits  ?  Do  ye  see  what  we  Ve 
done  ?  —  left  him  in  his  mail !  —  and  now  there  's  no  way 
to  have  it  off  but  to  undo  his  wristlets.  Now  what  do 
you  think  of  that?  "  he  appealed  to  Cristoval. 

Cristoval  shrugged,  but  made  no  comment.  The 
others  stood  helplessly  about  while  the  sergeant  berated 
them  until  his  feelings  were  relieved,  when  he  exclaimed, 
with  regained  philosophy :  "  Well,  let  it  stay !  'T  will 
keep.  The  prisoner  will  be  none  the  better  for  it,  nor 
the  worse;  and  if  it  worrieth  the  next  sergeant  of  the 
guard,  let  him  worry,  or  take  it  off.  'T  is  time  to  eat." 

He  led  his  men  out  without  further  ado,  and  once 
more  the  place  was  quiet. 

For  an  hour  Cristoval  sat  in  a  half  stupor;  at  last, 
overcome  by  weariness,  he  hobbled  to  the  bench  beside 
the  wall.  He  stretched  himself  upon  it,  and  his  torpid 
mind  passed  insensibly  into  slumber.  Late  in  the  even 
ing  he  was  awakened  by  the  light  of  a  lantern  in  his  face, 
and  found  himself  confronting  Pedro.  The  two  regarded 
one  another  silently,  Pedro  with  elevated  light  and  pro 
found  concern  in  his  rubicund  countenance. 

"  'T  is  thou,  good  Pedro !  "  said  Cristoval,  at  length. 

"Ah!"  assented  Pedro.  "And  is  it  thou,  Cristoval? 
Thou,  amigo  ?  —  thus  ignominiously  pickled  and  shorn 
of  liberty,  hoppled  like  a  wayward  barb.  I  scarce  know 
thee." 

Cristoval  smiled  gloomily.  "  It  is  I,  Pedro !  Would 
it  were  some  other.  A  prisoner !  —  and  all  to  no  purpose." 


* 

i4o  THE    CRIMSON    CONQUEST 

Pedro  drew  a  long  breath,  swore  a  little,  and  seating 
himself,  placed  his  lantern  upon  the  floor  and  stared  at 
it  in  dejection.  "  All  to  no  purpose !  "  he  echoed.  "  The 
Inca  is  dead." 

"  And  Pizarro  liveth !  "  groaned  Cristoval.  "  Oh,  San 
Miguel!  Could  I  have  had  but  a  moment  longer  with 
him !  "  He  seized  the  cook's  arm.  "  But,  Pedro  —  what 
of  the  Nusta  Rava?" 

"  Ah,  the  Nusta  Rava !  "  exclaimed  Pedro,  his  face 
reddening  in  the  lamplight  with  indignation.  "  What 
thinkst  thou,  Cristoval?  —  but  thou  couldst  never  guess! 
The  Nusta  Rava  hath  been  given  by  Pizarro  to  that  foul 
bird,  Mendoza,  as  his  share  of  the  plunder  of  the  Inca's 
palace." 

Cristoval  sprang  up  and  glared  at  the  cook  with  an 
expression  which  reminded  him  of  the  rumor  that  the 
cavalier  had  gone  mad.  At  length  Cristoval  hoarsely 
broke  the  silence :  — 

"Hath  he  — is  she  —  " 

Pedro  met  the  burning  scrutiny  and  shook  his  head. 
"  No !  She  is  safe  for  the  present.  The  plunder  hath  not 
yet  been  divided." 

"Where  is  she?"  demanded  Cristoval. 

"  In  the  palace.  She  is  unmolested  thus  far,  save  that 
Mendoza  payeth  an  occasional  visit  to  ogle,  gloat  on, 
and  leer,  whilst  he  croaketh  a  few  words  of  Quichua. 
But  she  is  never  alone.  Her  maids  are  always  present. 
One  of  them  came  to  me  this  morning,  weeping,  and 
begged  that  I  devise  means  to  relieve  her  mistress  of  the 
monster's  visits.  I  '11  do  it  some  fine  day,  Cristoval,  and 
there  will  be  carrion  to  lug  out  of  the  garden.  She 
knoweth  not  her  fate,  poor  girl." 

"Kill  him,  Pedro!" 

"I  will  —  if  thou  dost  not." 

"  I,  Pedro !      How  in  the  fiend's  name  could  I  kill 


CRISTOVAL   A   PRISONER  141 

even  a  rat?"  demanded  the  cavalier,  with  impatience. 
"  Look  at  me !  Look  about  thee !  Is  this  a  paper  house, 
imbecile?  Am  I  tied  with  pack-threads?  Another  day 
—  perhaps  two  —  perhaps  three  —  and  I  shall  share  the 
Inca's  fate.  Be  sure  of  it,  friend." 

Pedro  shrugged  and  glanced  about.  "  Keep  thy  cour 
age,  Cristoval.  Stone  walls  do  not  always  make  a  prison. 
I  've  learned  some  tricks  in  my  career  besides  those  of 
the  kitchen.  Thou  knowest  I  was  not  always  a  cook." 

"  Thou  'It  need  the  tricks  of  a  thaumaturge  to  take 
me  out  of  here,  old  friend,"  said  Cristoval,  "  and  thou 
canst  serve  me  better  than  by  losing  good  time  in  the 
effort.  Promise  thou 'It  kill  Mendoza  if  need  be  to  save 
the  Nusta." 

"I  will!"  replied  Pedro,  cheerfully.  "But  we  will 
talk  of  it  to-morrow  —  or  when  I  come  again.  Now  I 
must  go.  I  've  brought  thee  a  small  supper  —  bribed 
the  sergeant  of  the  guard  to  let  me  pass.  No  appetite 
at  present?  Then  eat  later.  Adibs,  amigo  mfo." 

"  Wait,  Pedro !  "  said  Cristoval,  urgently.  "  Tell  me 
first  of  the  Inca's  death." 

"  Oh,  an  infamy  of  infamies ! "  blurted  Pedro,  with 
an  oath,  and  reseated  himself.  "  A  devil's  own  deed, 
brought  about  by  a  devil's  own  device  and  procedure! 
An  indictment  wanting  even  the  merit  of  ingenuity  in 
its  fabrication!  A  court  presided  over  by  Pizarro  and 
Almagro,  the  Inca's  prime  enemies !  A  trial  that  began  as 
a  farce  and  ended  in  a  quarrel  over  the  expediency  of  his 
death  —  whether  it  would  further  or  hinder  the  business 
of  the  conquest  and  the  gathering  of  plunder.  And  it  was 
decided  on  that  score,  Cristoval.  The  judgment  was  de 
termined  upon  before  the  trial  began.  Didst  know  he 
was  condemned  to  burn  at  the  stake?  " 

"Oh,  God!"  gasped  Cristoval.  "They  told  me  he 
was  garroted ! " 


142  THE    CRIMSON    CONQUEST 

"  And  so  he  was.  At  the  last  moment,  after  the  fag 
ots  were  ablaze,  Father  Valverde  offered  him  the  easier 
death  if  he  would  accept  the  Faith.  He  assented.  The 
fire  was  kicked  out,  and  he  received  baptism.  So  he  died 
a  good  Christian." 

"  So  he  died  a  good  Christian !  "  repeated  Cristoval, 
with  bitterness.  "  He  was  a  better  man  a  pagan  than 
the  Christians  who  slew  him.  Well,  God  give  him  rest. 
But  had  he  no  defenders,  Pedro?  Was  there  no  man  less 
a  criminal  than  Pizarro?" 

"  A  few,  but,  curse  me,  a  sparing  few !  Among  them 
was  Jose,  and  he  the  most  vehement.  He  denounced  the 
affair  with  an  acrimony  that  stirred  the  wrath  of  Father 
Valverde,  who  helped  to  draw  the  indictment.  Jose 
knoweth  no  discretion,  Cristoval.  But  the  Inca's  friends 
were  not  many,  and  their  protests  were  futile." 

"  How  did  he  bear  himself  ?  " 

"  As  a  king,  if  ever  I  saw  one !  "  returned  Pedro,  with 
emphasis.  "  When  the  sentence  was  made  known  to  him 
he  made  one  appeal  for  mercy.  Pizarro  feigned  com 
miseration:  turned  away  his  head  and  wiped  an  eye  — 
oh,  accursed  hypocrite !  —  and  now  he  weareth  mourning. 
Didst  observe?  " 

"  I  saw  it." 

"  But  this  one  appeal  denied,"  continued  Pedro,  "  the 
Inca  met  his  death  like  a  man,  begging  only  that  his  peo 
ple  be  gently  dealt  with.  Rest  his  soul  in  peace !  He  was 
a  man !  " 

Both  sat  for  a  time  in  silence,  then  Pedro  sighed  and 
arose.  "  Well,  God  be  with  thee,  Cristoval.  I  '11  see  thee 
to-morrow,  if  't  is  permitted.  If  not,  then  when  De  Soto 
cometh.  He  will  make  a  way.  Good-night." 

Cristoval  pressed  his  hand,  and  leaving  his  lantern, 
the  cook  stumped  to  the  door,  which,  after  a  moment's 
pounding,  was  cautiously  opened  from  without,  and  he 


143 

disappeared.  Cristoval  meditated  long.  Then,  slowly 
taking  up  the  lantern,  he  moved  to  the  table  and  surveyed 
the  repast  left  by  Pedro.  There  was  a  small  flask  of 
chicha,  and  after  a  draught  of  it  he  attacked  the  supper 
and  finished  it  with  interest.  It  revived  his  spirits,  and 
for  the  first  time  he  examined  his  fetters.  There  was  little 
encouragement  to  be  found  in  their  massiveness,  and  he 
shook  his  head  dubiously  at  the  recollection  of  Pedro's  few 
words  of  reassurance.  He  returned  to  his  bench,  put  out 
his  light,  and  soon  was  sleeping  heavily. 


CHAPTER  XIV 
Pedro  to  the  Rescue 

WHEN   Cristoval   awoke,   stiffened  and  unre- 
freshed,  the  room  was  gray  with  feeble  light. 
He  stared  at  the  heavy  rafters,  not  yet  fully 
roused  to  his   dismal  circumstances. 
"  'T  is  early,"  he  thought  sleepily,  "  or  a  dull  morn 
ing.      What  hath  the  day?      Let  us  see  —  where  am  I? 
Guamachucho?     No.     What  pent  up  air  is  this?"     He 
turned  his  head  and  blinked  at  the  windows,  then  raised 
his  manacled  wrists.    The  history  of  the  day  before  flashed 
over  him.    He  looked  a  moment  at  his  irons,  then  closed 
his  eyes  and  set  his  lips.    Presently  he  sat  up,  painfully, 
and  bent  his  head  upon  his  hands.      "  I  thought  I  had 
dreamed.     Ay  de  mi  I     No  dream,  Cristoval.     To-morrow 
a  court,  a  shrift,  the  garrote.     Ah,  Madre,it  hath  been  a 
life  not  well  spent!     But  it  seemeth  short  —  too  short." 
He  sighed  heavily,  once,  twice,  arose  abruptly,  and  shook 
himself.      "  Enough,   Peralta !      Thou  'It  be  groaning  in 
self-pity.    No  more  of  it!    Let  us  look  about." 

He  hobbled  to  the  table.  There  was  a  jar  of  water 
and  a  loaf  of  coarse  corn-bread.  "  Some  one  hath  been 
here  —  not  Pedro,  I  '11  stake  my  head.  I  wonder  what 
the  hour  may  be.  It  must  be  late.  Bienl  The  day  will 
be  the  shorter.  And  now  we  '11  eat,  if  but  to  kill  time. 
Would  that  hope  were  as  faithful  in  our  extremity  as  ap 
petite  !  We  'd  ne'er  despair.  Two  good  comrades,  hope 
and  appetite,  and  sad  to  lose.  Pedro  would  say  that  — 
though  belike  in  Latin.  Good  old  cook!  When  will  he 
come?  But  he'll  come,  God  bless  him!  What  did  he 


PEDRO    TO   THE    RESCUE  145 

mean?  —  he  hath  'learned  a  trick  or  two  besides  those  of 
the  kitchen.'  Can  he  hope  to  free  me?  Chance  slight 
as  air!  Would  that  De  Soto  were  here,  though  I  see  not 
how  he  can  help.  But  he  could  save  the  Nusta  Rava,  and 
that  he  will  do,  I  know.  Poor  girl!  Her  fate  may  be 
worse  than  mine.  Now,  we  '11  have  another  look  at  these 
fetters.  —  Strong  enough,  by  the  Faith,  and  strength  to 
spare!  But  one  of  Jose's  files  on  the  rivet-heads  —  as 
well  wish  for  the  Arabian  lamp ! " 

The  day  dragged  slowly  and  wearily.  He  spent  it  in 
waiting,  vaguely,  he  knew  not  for  what,  and  in  listening 
for  the  few  slight  sounds  that  broke  upon  the  stillness. 
The  steps  of  the  sentinel,  the  murmur  of  voices  when  the 
reliefs  came,  the  faint  echo  of  the  trumpet-calls  on  the 
plaza,  were  noted  with  painful  attention.  Now  he  sat 
straining  his  ears;  now  he  limped  haltingly  round  and 
round  the  apartment,  filling  it  with  the  clank  and  scrape 
of  his  shackles,  until  his  ankles  were  worn  to  the  raw 
and  he  could  walk  no  more.  Seated  on  the  bench,  he 
dozed  at  last,  and  when  he  awoke  the  light  was  failing. 
This  day  Pedro  did  not  come.  Thrice  Cristoval  thought 
some  one  fumbled  the  bolt  of  the  door,  but  it  was  unopened 
until  night  was  on,  when  the  new  officer  of  the  guard  came 
in  with  the  old.  They  entered  in  silence.  A  soldier  held 
a  lantern  aloft  while  the  new  commander  surveyed  the 
room  and  the  prisoner,  briefly  returning  his  nod  as  all 
went  out  without  a  word. 

The  night  was  a  year,  but  toward  dawn  he  slept, 
rousing  when  his  food  was  brought.  The  soldier  eyed 
him  indifferently,  and  departed  without  salutation.  Soon 
after,  two  of  Jose's  artificers  came  in  with  a  pikeman  of 
the  guard,  inspected  the  windows,  and  strengthened  the 
fastenings  of  the  door.  Cristoval  spoke  to  one  of  them, 
but  the  guard  gruffly  forbade  a  reply,  and  the  prisoner 
said  no  more. 


i46  THE    CRIMSON    CONQUEST 

The  day  was  maddening  in  its  length,  monotony, 
and  stillness.  Why  did  not  Pedro  come?  Where  was  D,e 
Soto?  Had  all  friends  failed?  He  must  communicate 
with  De  Soto  concerning  the  Nusta,  and  time  might  be 
short.  When  should  he  have  his  trial?  These  questions 
came  again  and  again  to  his  tortured  mind,  but  all  re 
mained  unanswered.  They  troubled  him  more  now  than 
the  thought  of  death,  for  with  the  loss  of  hope  had  come 
the  blessed  resignation  with  which  the  All-wise  softens  the 
approach  of  the  inevitable  hour,  and  he  was  surprised 
at  his  own  indifference.  His  one  anxiety  about  it  was 
the  question  when  it  would  be.  He  would  have  inter 
rogated  the  soldier  who  brought  his  food,  but  the  man 
did  not  even  answer  his  greeting. 

Another  restless  night,  and  Cristoval  rose  haggard 
and  savage.  Solitude  had  preyed  upon  him,  and  the 
silence  even  more.  The  taciturnity  of  his  guards  was 
infuriating.  When  the  soldier  entered  with  his  breakfast 
he  sprang  up  from  the  bench  with  a  suddenness  that  caused 
the  man  to  drop  his  burden  with  a  crash  of  broken  stone 
ware,  and  draw  his  dirk  as  he  dashed  to  the  door  calling 
for  help.  The  sentinel  burst  in  and  stood  with  lowered 
pike  while  Cristoval  glared  upon  them  like  a  madman. 

"  Loco  I  "  whispered  the  attendant,  with  a  gasp.  "Jesa 
Cristo,  let  me  out ! " 

"  Out,  then,  thou  knave!  "  bellowed  Cristoval.  "  Who 
holdeth  thee?  And  hearken!  When  thou  comest  again, 
speak !  —  say  something,  or  by  Saint  Michael,  thou  'It 
die  unshriven!  Is  this  a  tomb,  that  ye  varlets  must 
come  and  go,  tiptoeing  and  mum  like  undertakers'  help? 
Pass  the  time  of  day,  ask  me  how  I  like  my  fare,  mention 
the  weather,  or  blow  thy  nose;  but  break  this  accursed 
silence  if  thou  wouldst  have  thy  neck  unbroken ! " 

The  soldier  edged  toward  the  door.  "  We  are  for 
bidden  to  have  words  with  you,  Sefior  Cristoval." 


PEDRO    TO    THE    RESCUE  147 

"  Good !  Then  say  that !  Say  it  over  and  again ! 
Say  it  backward;  but  ware  being  silent.  Dost  hear?" 

"May  bien  —  Adios,  Senor  Cristoval,"  and  the  two 
squeezed  themselves  out. 

"  Bring  more  water ! "  shouted  Cristoval,  and  sat 
down  relieved. 

The  day  wore  along.  When  the  officers  of  the  guard 
came  at  nightfall  Cristoval  was  asleep.  Later  he  was 
aroused  and  sat  up.  A  lantern  blinded  him,  but  in  a 
moment  he  recognized  Pedro  with  a  shout.  He  rose  and 
clanked  across  the  room,  extending  both  hands. 

"  Pedro,  thou  blessed  saint !  Pedro  at  last !  My  life ! 
I  thought  never  to  see  thy  good  face  again.  Where  hast 
thou  been  these  years?  Welcome,  welcome  as  the  sun! 
Would  these  bracelets  permit,  I  'd  embrace  thee,  old 
friend."  His  joy  was  unaffected  and  pathetic.  Pedro 
was  for  a  moment  overwhelmed  by  its  demonstration. 
Freeing  himself  of  a  burden  whose  savory  odors  told  its 
nature,  he  grasped  Cristoval's  hands,  then  dropped  one 
to  dash  his  own  hastily  across  his  eyes. 

"  God  ha'  mercy,  Cristoval !  I  —  I  —  Spit,  roast,  and 
baste  my  carcass !  —  I  'm  glad  to  see  thee.  Wait !  " 

He  turned  hurriedly  to  the  basket  which  he  had  de 
posited  upon  the  table,  fished  out  a  loaf,  and  thrust  it  upon 
the  prisoner.  "  Here !  "  he  whispered,  with  great  impres- 
siveness,  looking  carefully  toward  the  door,  "  Chew  it 
up  fine!  Chew  it  fine  —  dost  hear?" 

Cristoval  took  the  loaf  mechanically,  surveying  him 
with  astonishment.  "  What  thinkst  thou,  man  —  that 
I  would  swallow  it  whole?  I  am  hungered,  but  no  cor 
morant.  I  '11  wait,  by  thy  leave." 

"Yes,  yes!  Wait  till  I'm  gone.  Hide  it.  Eat  it 
when  alone." 

Cristoval  scanned  his  round  face,  now  serious,  and 
tucked  the  loaf  into  his  doublet. 


i48  THE    CRIMSON    CONQUEST 

"  Ah !  "  quoth  Pedro,  with  a  nod  of  approval.  "  Now 
I  will  lay  out  thy  supper,  and  whilst  thou  dost  eat  I 
will  talk.  I  must  not  tarry  over  long  —  to-night.  To 
morrow  night  I  will  tarry  longer.  Ha,  ha!  Stew  my 
tripes  and  giblets !  "  and  he  patted  Cristoval  on  the  back, 
mystifying  the  cavalier  with  his  uncalled-for  levity. 
He  continued  rapidly :  "  Sit,  amigo,  and  I  '11  tell  thee  a 
history  of  late  events,  and  briefly.  I  have  talked  with 
De  Soto." 

"Then  he  hath  returned!"  said  Cristoval. 

"  Hath  returned,  and  would  be  sharing  thine  im 
prisonment  could  Pizarro  do  his  inclinations.  But  De 
Soto  was  more  discreet  than  thou,  Cristoval.  On  his 
arrival  he  paid  his  respects  to  the  general  in  full  armor, 
whilst  his  troop  stood  to  horse  in  the  plaza  in  front  of  the 
palace.  'T  was  a  bluff  and  blustering  parley,  I  've  been 
told.  The  captain  forced  Pizarro  to  lame  defence  of  his 
execution  of  the  Inca,  and  to  swallow  more  of  his  own 
choler  than  he  will  be  through  with  tasting  for  a  fort 
night.  But  he  had  naught  else  to  do,  for  De  Soto  would 
have  killed  him  at  a  word.  In  the  end  the  commander 
threw  blame  upon  Riquelme,  Almagro,  and  others  —  a 
burden  unloved  by  any  of  them,  it  would  seem,  for  they 
fell  upon  him  in  full  cry  and  rammed  the  accusation  down 
his  throat.  The  lie  was  bandied  among  them  like  a  shuttle 
cock.  This  one  appeached  that,  that  one  the  other,  then 
all  of  them  each  one  in  turn.  Their  chorus  reached  to 
the  plaza.  A  bag  of  cats  were  not  more  earnest  and  vocif 
erous.  Swords  were  out,  and  but  for  Candia  and  Gon- 
zalo  Pizarro's  blood  had  been  spilt.  Stew  me!  I  would 
they  had  gotten  well  at  it.  What  sayst  thou  to  't?  —  a 
rare  batch  of  back-clawing  freebooters,  not  so,  Cristoval? 
Aha !  De  Soto  stirred  them  well.  —  But  what  wouldst 
guess  was  the  outcome  of  the  wrangle?  Scorch  me 
if  Pizarro  did  not  shift  the  blame  upon  that  scamp, 


149 

Felipillo,  whom  he  accuseth  of  having  falsified  to  incrim 
inate  the  Inca ! " 

Cristoval's  comment  was  a  laugh  of  disgust.  Pedro 
added  an  imprecation,  and  resumed. 

"  And  now  to  thine  own  business,  amigo.  De  Soto 
spoke  for  thee,  but  with  ill  success.  Thine  offence  was 
flagrant,  dost  see?  —  black,  grave,  and  most  flagitious! 
For  the  sake  of  discipline  thou  must  come  to  trial.  The 
most  Pizarro  would  grant  is  a  delay  until  the  day  after 
the  morrow.  But  for  De  Soto  it  would  have  been  yester 
day.  The  moment  was  unfavorable  for  intercession." 

Cristoval  had  ceased  eating  and  sat  gloomily  regard 
ing  the  cook.  "  Useless  to  intercede,"  he  said  at  last, 
"  then,  or  at  any  time.  My  campaign  is  ended,  Pedro. 
But  I  must  see  De  Soto.  Thou  and  he  must  save  that 
unhappy  girl." 

"  We  will  do  so,  Cristoval.  But  now  hear  me.  I 
have  talked  with  De  Soto.  To-day  he  went  to  the  general 
and  insisted  thou  must  have  Christian  fare,  and  that  I 
be  allowed  admittance.  Pizarro  demurred,  but  when  De 
Soto  came  away  I  went  to  the  general,  saying  that  I  had 
been  told  I  should  have  to  be  thy  commissary  —  to  lug 
offal  to  the  bear,  as  Rogelio  hath  put  it  —  and  I  swore 
a  great  protest  that  I  'd  not  do  it.  Vowed  that  if  I  was 
forced  to  it  I  'd  put  poison  in  thy  food." 

"Ho!"  exclaimed  Cristoval. 

"  I  declared  thou  'rt  mad,  as  't  is  said  by  the  men,  and 
that  I  feared  for  my  life." 

"  San  Miguel !  "  growled  Cristoval.  "  Is  not  my  case 
bad  enough  without  thy  slander?  " 

Pedro  shrugged.  "  I  painted  thee  well,  amigo,  and 
the  general  knoweth  my  fears.  As  a  consequence  — " 

"  —  I  Ve  lived  on  corn-bread  and  water,  Pedro, 
Continue." 

"  —  As  a  consequence,  I  'm  ordered  to  feed  thee  or 


ISO  THE    CRIMSON    CONQUEST 

be  thumbscrewed,  and  Pizarro  more  than  half  believeth 
the  latter  would  please  me  as  well.  He  knoweth,  there 
fore,  thou  'It  have  scant  sympathy  from  me,  thou  'It  not 
be  overfed,  and  that  I  '11  be  carrying  no  messages  from 
thee  to  friends  outside.  He  knoweth  that  I  take  my  life 
in  my  hands  in  coming  —  I  am  armed,  as  thou  see'st, 
Cristoval.  It  is  thy  sword,  by  the  way." 

Cristoval  looked  at  it  with  a  sigh.  "  I  would  rather 
thou  shouldst  have  it  than  any  other  man.  It  is  a  good 
blade,  Pedro.  Let  it  keep  me  in  thy  memory." 

Pedro  regarded  him  intently.  After  a  pause  he  said 
in  a  low  voice,  "  Cristoval,  thou  'It  find  a  file  in  that  loaf." 

Cristoval  started,  and  his  face  slowly  flushed. 

"  Jose  sent  it  thee,"  whispered  Pedro,  "  encased  thus 
in  the  loaf  lest  I  be  searched  by  the  guard.  A  wise 
precaution,  for  they  did  search  me.  And  now,"  Pedro 
hitched  his  stool  nearer,  "  dost  think  thou  canst  free  thy 
self  by  to-morrow  night?  Good!  Then  listen:  File  the 
rivet-heads  nearly  off  —  not  quite  —  so  that  a  moment's 
work  will  finish  it.  Mould  a  bit  of  the  bread  in  shape 
to  simulate  the  bolt-heads  in  case  thy  fetters  should  be 
inspected.  Be  ready  to-morrow  night." 

Cristoval  seized  the  cook's  hand  and  pressed  it 
without  a  word. 

"Be  ready,"  repeated  Pedro.  "I'll  tell  thee  a  plan 
when  I  come  again.  Now,  good-night." 

"Hold,  Pedro!  — will  it  endanger  thee?  If  so,  I'll 
none  of  it,  by  —  " 

"  It  will  not.    I  swear  it.    Adios" 

Pedro  pounded  on  the  door,  which  was  opened 
presently  by  the  sentinel.  He  went  through  with  a  snort 
and  an  oath,  and  looking  back,  addressed  the  prisoner  with 
well  affected  wrath :  — 

"  Burnt,  is  it?  Underdone,  is  it?  Too  salt,  is  it?  Not 
warm  enough,  isn't  it?  Thou  croaking,  leather-cropped 


PEDRO    TO    THE    RESCUE  151 

kennel-forager!  Thy  feed  will  be  served  hot  enough 
presently,  and  not  underdone,  I  '11  take  my  oath  on 't ! 
Thou  'It  have  the  devil  for  a  cook,  and  he  '11  do  things 
to  a  turn.  Bear  him  the  compliments  of  Pedro  with 
the  hope  that  his  draughts  are  good,  and  firewood  and 
sulphur  plentiful.  Underdone !  Thou  'It  be  done  brown, 
my  head  on 't,  thou  —  " 

The  door  slammed,  and  Cristoval  could  hear  him 
grumbling  and  swearing  to  the  sentinel.  He  smiled,  sat 
listening  for  a  time,  then  cautiously  drew  out  the  loaf 
and  broke  it.  The  point  of  a  file  protruded,  and  in  a 
second  it  was  hidden  in  his  bosom.  Shortly  he  extin 
guished  the  light,  sought  the  bench,  and  waiting  for  a 
period  with  ears  alert,  took  out  the  precious  bit  of  steel 
and  set  to  work  in  the  darkness,  first  on  his  shackles. 
But  despite  his  utmost  care  his  manacles  rattled  at  every 
stroke,  and  he  spent  half  an  hour  wrapping  the  links  with 
his  torn-up  kerchief.  At  last  he  could  work  in  compara 
tive  silence,  though  the  grating  of  the  file  seemed  to  cry 
aloud  to  heaven,  and  he  paused  momentarily,  breathless, 
to  listen  for  an  alarm.  But  the  tool  bit  gratefully,  and 
before  midnight  he  judged  from  the  feeling  that  little 
work  remained. 

Now  for  the  manacles.  This  was  another  matter. 
Twist  and  strain  as  he  might,  he  could  not  reach  the 
rivets  with  the  file,  —  could  not  have  done  so  had  his  soul 
been  at  stake,  as  well  as  liberty  and  life.  He  groaned, 
sweat,  and  raged,  tried  holding  the  tool  between  his 
teeth,  and  strove  ineffectually  until  his  jaws  ached.  He 
sat  near  to  despair.  Now  he  sought  carefully  along  the 
wall  for  a  crevice  into  which  to  wedge  the  butt  of  the 
implement,  and  cursed  the  skill  of  the  masons.  For  ages 
he  searched,  until  his  finger  nails  were  worn  to  the  quick. 
Useless!  He  must  wait  for  Pedro. 

Another  possibility.      He   groped  until  he  found  a 


152  THE    CRIMSON    CONQUEST 

chair.  Over  and  over  it  travelled  his  eager  fingers,  and 
at  last  found  a  crevice  into  which  the  file  would  go.  In  his 
fever  he  dropped  the  steel,  and  it  clanged  on  the  pave 
ment  like  a  tocsin.  He  caught  breath  with  a  sob  and  knelt 
long  with  straining  ears,  mouth  and  eyes  wide  open. 
Gracias  a  Dios,  it  was  unheard !  Cautiously,  now !  The  file 
enters  and  is  forced  to  solidity  by  a  few  gentle  blows 
from  his  manacles.  Now  he  works  —  awkwardly,  but  in 
a  delirium  of  interestedness.  "  Gods !  The  Inca  had 
longing  for  freedom.  Had  he  such  longing  as  this  which 
hath  come  with  renewed  hope  ?  Poor  devil,  't  is  even 
likely.  God  rest  his  soul." 

It  seemed  but  a  moment  before  he  noticed  with  a 
shock  that  the  two  high  -windows  were  staring  at  him 
with  pallid  light,  like  a  pair  of  accusing  eyes.  The  morn 
ing  had  come.  He  ceased  and  rose  from  his  stiffened 
knees.  Now  to  hide  the  evidence.  A  few  crumbs  from 
the  loaf,  water  from  the  jar,  soot  from  the  inside  of  Pedro's 
lantern,  and  the  rivet-heads  were  counterfeited  with  the 
loving  care  of  an  artist.  Next,  the  filings.  They  were 
invisible,  but  he  did  not  rest  until  they  had  been  scat 
tered  to  the  four  corners  of  the  room.  At  length  he  lay 
down,  weary  but  sleepless,  staring  at  the  beams  which 
already  wore  the  familiarity  of  lifelong  acquaintance. 
After  an  hour  the  sentinel  looked  in,  and  Cristoval  snored. 
The  door  closed  again.  —  Madre  de  Dios  I  Was  that  a 
blunder  —  to  feign  sleep?  Would  not  the  soldier  suspect 
that  he  had  been  awake  all  night  —  working  with  a  file 

—  and  now  slept  from  weariness?     He  sat  up,  pale  and 
shaking.     No!     Impossible!     But  he  would  not  venture 
it  again.     After  a  time  his  breakfast  came  —  corn-bread. 
Pedro  did  not  bring  it.     Was  there  significance  in  that? 
Had  the  night's  work  been  detected   and  his  accessory 
seized?     The  soldier  had  looked  at  him  with   suspicion 

—  at    least,    with    feigned    indifference!      Holy    Mother! 


153 

What  a  torture  of  multiplied  fears,  now  that  hope  had 
come! 

And  so  throughout  the  day.  Every  sound  startled  his 
heart  to  his  mouth,  clamored  discovery,  the  plot  revealed. 
At  midday  he  was  sleepy,  and  dared  not  sleep,  —  or  only 
in  snatches,  sitting  up.  Ten  thousand  times  he  examined 
his  counterfeit  rivet-heads.  Palpably,  palpably  false!  To 
be  detected  at  a  glance  through  a  crack  in  the  door!  He 
hardly  ventured  to  move  lest  the  bits  of  paste  fall  off. 
Ah,  torment  upon  torment!  It  was  easier  to  be  sure  of 
death,  as  he  had  been  the  day  before. 

By  nightfall  his  head  was  fevered,  his  hands  clam 
mily  cold.  At  the  usual  hour  the  officer  of  the  guard  came 
in.  The  new  one  was  Zapato.  He  was  surly  and  irri 
table  from  a  debauch  of  the  previous  night,  and  said 
loudly  as  he  entered  the  door :  — 

"Is  this  our  ogre?  Bah!  For  a  maraevedi  I  would 
pull  his  teeth.  Let  us  have  a  look  at  his  fastenings." 

The  other  officer  spoke  a  word  in  a  low  tone,  evi 
dently  of  warning,  and  laid  his  hand  upon  his  companion's 
arm.  Zapato  shook  him  off  roughly.  "  Furies ! "  he  re 
torted.  "  Dost  think  to  frighten  me?  Loco  or  not,  I  '11 
see  to  his  irons.  Here,  guard,  the  lantern." 

Cristoval's  nervousness  left  him  in  an  instant,  and 
he  set  his  teeth.  Por  Dios  I  the  man  who  should  discover 
his  work  with  the  file  should  never  live  to  announce  it. 
As  Zapato  approached,  holding  the  lantern  aloft,  scowling 
with  swollen  eyes,  Cristoval  rose  slowly  and  stood  watch 
ing  his  advance  with  still  alertness.  The  unsteady  lantern 
cast  a  fitful  light  over  his  rugged  features,  and  the  officer 
looked  into  a  face  whose  haggardness  was  intensified  by 
the  uncertain  shadows,  —  cheeks  sunken  and  drawn  by 
confinement  and  anxiety,  and  from  their  dark  orbits  a  pair 
of  eyes  gleaming  with  menacing  steadiness  into  Zapato's. 
The  latter  hesitated,  peering  uncertainly  through  the 


154  THE    CRIMSON    CONQUEST 

gloom,  then  stepped  back  a  pace,  his  hand  on  his  sword. 
The  other  officer  seized  him  by  the  arm  and  drew  him 
without  much  resistance  toward  the  door.  Zapato  looked 
back  over  his  shoulder. 

"  The  man  is  mad  for  a  surety !  We  '11  let  some  one 
else  look  after  his  fetters,"  and  he  laughed  uneasily  and 
went  out.  Cristoval  smiled  grimly  and  seated  himself 
to  wait  for  Pedro. 

Four  long  hours,  —  he  knew  from  the  change  of 
sentinels  outside  the  door,  which  was  made  twice.  At 
last,  the  welcome  voice.  Pedro  was  apparently  in  unusual 
spirits,  for  his  words  were  pitched  high  and  he  talked 
volubly,  now  rapidly  in  Spanish,  now  with  dignity  in 
Latin.  Would  he  never  be  done?  Presently  he  was  sing 
ing.  Fiends!  Will  he  not  hurry?  But  listen!  His 
words  sound  thick,  with  pauses  suspiciously  like  hic 
coughs.  At  length  the  door  opens. 

"Is  —  is  —  the  (hie) — man  mad,  sayst  thou?  Say, 
rather,  'Faenam  habet  in  cornuT  Lat  —  Latin,  compadre. 
Meaneth,  he  hath  hay  on  (hie)  his  horns  —  P  —  p  — 
(hie)  Pliny.  M  —  more  stately  way  of  expressing  it,  my 
dear  (hie).  Let  us  —  see!" 

Cristoval's  heart  sank  in  black  despair  as  Pedro  stum 
bled  into  the  room,  basket  in  one  hand  and  lantern  in  the 
other,  and  stood  swaying  in  the  doorway,  smiling  idiot 
ically  at  the  darkness.  The  prisoner  could  have  wept  in 
his  sudden  revulsion  from  hope  to  disappointment  and 
disgust.  The  sentinel  seemed  to  hesitate  about  closing 
the  door,  and  Pedro  blinked  at  him  a  moment,  then  said 
to  Cristoval  in  a  voice  of  maudlin  sympathy :  — 

"Loco I  (hie)  loco,  Cristoval?  My  commiseration! 
Sad  state.  Animi  affedionem  famine  mentis  carentem  nomi- 
navemnt  (hie)  amentiam,  eandemqtte  dementiam.  Amentiam 
or  dementiam,  Cristoval  —  have  thy  choice.  Cicer  —  (hie) 
Cicero,  my  friend.  Grand  old  man,  Cicero,  and  safe 


PEDRO    TO   THE    RESCUE  155 

authority.  But  —  art  mad,  Cristoval?  Outrage!  Qaos 
Dens  perdere  ifutt  prius  demerdat.  Whom  God  wisheth 
to  destroy  —  thou  knowest,  Cris(hic)toval.  More  Latin! 
Sh  —  shut  the  door,  guard.  I  '11  sit  down  with  Cristoval. 
Loco,  Cristoval?  S-s-(hic)  scandalous!" 

The  guard  closed  the  door  with  a  grin,  Pedro  re 
garding  him  with  profound  drunken  wisdom.  Cristoval's 
head  was  bowed  upon  his  hands.  As  the  bolts  were  shot 
the  cook's  manner  underwent  a  transformation.  He  lis 
tened  a  moment,  then  stepped  briskly  to  the  table,  de 
posited  basket  and  lantern,  and  when  the  prisoner  looked 
up  dejectedly  he  met  seriousness  from  which  all  ebriety 
had  vanished. 

Cristoval  sprang  to  his  feet.  "  San  Miguel,  Pedro, 
I  thought  thou  hadst  failed  me!  Thou 'rt  really  sober?" 
He  studied  the  cook's  genial  face  earnestly.  "  Gracias  a 
Diosl  But  'twas  well  played!  What  news?  Am  I  to 
go?" 

"  Seguramerde  I  Now,  quickly,  for  we  have  scant  time 
for  words.  That  little  play  was  a  part  of  our  affair  and 
will  aid  us  later.  What  of  thine  irons?  Hast  used  the 
file?  Ah,  good!  Now  attend.  This  is  the  plot.  Pedro 
cometh  to  thee  in  his  cups.  He  bringeth  a  bottle  —  here 
it  is.  We  drink.  Presently  Pedro  sleepeth.  What  more 
simple,  then,  than  to  bind  his  arms,  unstrap  his  poor 
wooden  leg,  strap  it  to  one  of  thy  good  ones,  —  first  cut 
ting  away  the  back  of  the  leather  socket  to  admit  thy 
bent  knee,  —  don  his  cloak,  sombrero,  and  sword,  and  sally 
forth  when  the  door  is  opened  to  thy  knocking?  The 
cloak  hitched  up  by  thy  rapier  will  conceal  thy  bent  leg. 
Thine  intoxication  will  account  for  thine  awkward  gait 
on  the  unaccustomed  peg,  will  excuse  thy  tilted  sombrero 
to  hide  thy  face,  and  thy  silence  if  addressed.  The  sen 
tinel  at  the  door  will  be  drunk  shortly,  for  I  've  left  him 
a  bottle.  With  the  one  at  the  entrance  thou  must  take 


i56  THE    CRIMSON    CONQUEST 

thy  chances,  but  if  accosted,  hiccough  and  tender  this 
flask.  It  will  be  eloquent  enough.  Then  —  make  the  best 
of  thy  way  to  the  mountains,  and  Dominus  euobtscam  I  Now, 
first,  we  must  take  off  that  beard.  Here  are  scissors. 
Sit,  whilst  I  play  the  barber.  No  time  for  words.  Do 
as  I  say !  " 

He  was  at  the  beard  in  a  moment.  Cristoval  raised 
his  hand. 

"Well,  what  now?"  demanded  Pedro,  pausing. 
"The  Nusta  Rava,"  said  Cristoval. 
"  Thou  must  leave   her  to  me." 
"  She  goeth  with  me,  Pedro.     I  have  sworn  to  the 
Inca  —  " 

"  Oh,  Murder  of  the  Innocents !  Man,  't  is  impos 
sible!  Thy  life  may  pay  for  it.  Save  thy  neck  if  thou 
canst.  It  is  thy  one  chance.  Thy  trial  is  for  the  morrow. 
Encumbered  with  her  —  " 

"  She  goeth  with  me,  Pedro,  or  I  go  not  at  all." 
Pedro  swore  vigorously,  but  Cristoval  was  obdurate. 
They  wrangled  hotly  in  fierce  undertone.    Pedro  yielded. 

"  Be  it  as  thou  sayst,  Cristoval.  Holy  Mother ! 
Why  must  a  good  man  sometimes  be  a  fool?  Well,  stew 
me,  thou  'rt  not  the  first  to  be  undone  by  a  petticoat, 
nor  wilt  be  the  last.  As  thou  sayst.  Tilt  thy  head  back." 

"  Good  Pedro,  I  have  given  my  sacred  word.  Should 
I  break  it,  and  she  come  to  harm,  —  it  were  dastardly, 
my  friend,  as  thou  knowest.  By  to-morrow  I  can  have  her 
in  the  hands  of  her  people." 

Pedro  clipped  rapidly.  "  Well,  I  pray  Heaven  the 
effort  may  not  cost  too  dear.  But  —  damn  my  kettles, 
Cristoval !  —  thou  'rt  a  man  in  a  million.  Now,  I  '11  tell 
thee  how  to  find  her.  Thou  knowest  the  little  gate  in  the 
wall  just  back  of  the  left  wing  of  the  palace.  Thou  'It 
find  it  unfastened.  Go  in  when  the  sentinel  is  not  too  near. 
Thou  canst  find  the  women's  court?  Enter  it  and  knock 


PEDRO    TO   THE    RESCUE  157 

at  the  third  door  on  the  right.  Her  maids  sleep  there. 
They  will  know  thee.  Ask  for  Nuyalla.  She  will  lead  thee 
to  the  Princess,  who  will  go  with  thee,  I  doubt  not,  for 
she  knoweth  now  the  fate  in  store  for  her.  Heaven  be  with 
thee,  Cristoval !  Now  thou  'rt  done." 

As  he  arose  Cristoval  demanded  once  more,  searching 
the  countenance  of  the  cook,  "  Pedro,  dost  swear  this  will 
not  endanger  thee? " 

"  On  my  oath,  it  will  not.  De  Soto  is  party  to  it. 
If  it  is  needed,  I  '11  have  his  protection." 

Cristoval  was  satisfied.  The  remaining  preparations 
were  quickly  made.  A  few  minutes'  work  removed  the 
fetters.  Pedro's  peg  was  unstrapped  and  fitted  to  Cris- 
toval's  bent  leg.  Then  the  cavalier  bound  his  friend 
securely  with  strips  torn  from  his  doublet.  He  buckled 
on  his  rapier,  threw  the  cloak  over  his  shoulders,  pulled 
the  sombrero  well  down  over  his  eyes,  and  was  ready 
to  depart. 

"  Now  walk  across  the  room  that  I  may  see  thy  gait," 
said  Pedro.  "  Ah !  Good !  But  stagger  widely  when 
thou  'rt  outside.  Tilt  not  thy  rapier  too  much,  lest  it 
disclose  thy  leg.  The  peg  would  spoil  thy  swordsmanship, 
but  once  inside  the  palace  walls  thou  canst  take  it  off. 
Thou  'It  answer.  Now  go !  " 

"  Farewell,  Pedro,  my  good  friend,"  said  Cristoval, 
embracing  him  warmly.  "  Heaven  grant  that  we  may 
meet  again !  " 

"  Farewell,  Cristoval.  God  preserve  thee !  "  returned 
Pedro,  his  voice  unsteady.  "  Curse  it,  I  '11  miss  thee 
sorely !  Take  the  basket  —  and  remember,  thou  'rt  drunk. 
Do  not  spare  thy  sword  if  any  one  hindereth;  only  — 
avoid  killing  Jose,  Candia,  or  De  Soto.  They  're  friends 
—  almost  the  only  ones  thou  hast  now,  save  Pedro." 

"  Is  it  so  ? "  asked  Cristoval,  with  surprise.  "  I 
thought  there  were  others." 


i58  THE    CRIMSON    CONQUEST 

"  They  are  few.  Pizarro  hath  done  for  that.  He 
promiseth  a  division  of  thy  share  of  the  plunder,  and  hath 
given  out  that  the  Inca  enriched  thee  for  thy  friendship. 
Not  ten  men  in  the  army  but  would  see  thee  roasted  with 
right  good-will.  A  murrain  seize  them  all!  Now  go! 
But  hold !  I  had  almost  forgotten.  In  the  basket  thou  'It 
find  a  pouch.  Sling  it  over  thy  shoulder.  It  containeth 
provisions.  Adibs  I  Adibs,  Cristoval !  " 

Cristoval  embraced  him  again,  and  in  a  second  was 
pounding  on  the  door.  His  nerves  were  steady,  now,  as 
steel. 


CHAPTER  XV 
The  Flight 

THERE  was  no  response  to  Cristoval's  blows  on 
the  door.  He  waited  a  moment,  then  renewed 
his  knocking.  Still  no  reply  but  the  reverbera 
tions  within  the  room.  He  pounded  again  and 
again.  Silence.  Drawing  his  sword,  he  laid  on  with  its 
hilt,  but  with  no  effect  upon  the  guard,  and  he  turned 
toward  Pedro  who  sat  staring  in  stupefaction.  Each  felt 
the  other's  dismay.  Here  was  a  condition  of  matters  to 
send  hearts  into  boots. 

"Sanctissima  Maria!"  gasped  the  cook.  "I've  been 
over  liberal  with  the  chicha.  Pound  again.  That  accursed 
sentinel  hath  gone  dead  over  the  bottle." 

Cristoval  battered  with  the  sword  hilt  until  the  room 
was  aroar  with  the  echoes.  No  sign  without. 

"  They  will  hear  it  in  the  guard-room,"  muttered 
Pedro,  "  and  then  we  shall  have  the  whole  stew  of  them 
about,  with  Zapato  in  the  middle." 

"  No  help  for  it,  Pedro.  I  must  be  out  at  once  if  out 
at  all,"  and  Cristoval  assaulted  with  redoubled  vigor. 
Pedro's  surmise  was  right  enough,  for  after  another  storm 
of  blows  a  distant  voice  called :  — 

"Ho  there,  guard!  What  is  doing?  What  is  that 
uproar? " 

The  sentinel  was  silent,  and  Cristoval  pounded  again. 
Presently  there  were  voices  and  footsteps  outside,  the 
wavering  light  of  a  lantern  shone  beneath  the  door,  and 
some  one  demanded:  "  What  is  wanted  within  there?  Be 
done,  prisoner!  Give  over  thy  din,  and  to  bed." 


160  THE   CRIMSON   CONQUEST 

"Let  me  answer,"  whispered  Pedro,  and  he  shouted: 
"  Open  up !  Open  up !  Let  me  out,  ye  blockheads.  D'  ye 
think  I  'm  playing  this  door  for  a  kettle-drum  to  amuse 
the  owls?  Unbar  before  I  raise  the  town." 

"  It  is  Pedro,"  said  the  voice.  "  Unbolt  and  let  him 
out." 

The  door  was  unfastened  and  swung  open,  revealing 
to  the  group  outside  the  similitude  of  Pedro,  swaying  un 
steadily  in  the  gloom,  sword  and  basket  in  hand,  with 
sombrero  cocked  very  drunkenly  over  one  eye.  Cristoval 
hiccoughed  once,  then  lurched  suddenly  forward,  jostling 
the  sergeant  and  extinguishing  his  lantern  with  a  blow 
from  the  basket;  reeled  away  from  him  with  his  point 
describing  erratic  curves  near  the  belts  of  the  soldiers, 
and  broke  through  the  circle.  By  good  fortune  Zapato 
was  not  there.  The  guard  scattered  before  the  uncertain 
sweep  of  his  sword,  and  he  zigzagged  across  the  court 
toward  the  outer  doors.  The  sentinel  lowered  his  halberd 
at  his  approach  and  called  to  the  sergeant :  — 

"Hob,  Sargentol  shall  I  stop  him?  " 

"  No !  Pass  him  out.  He 's  drunk.  If  hindered  he  '11 
have  the  general,  staff,  and  clergy  about  us  with  his  up 
roar.  Let  him  go,  and  the  fiend  take  him ! " 

The  sentinel  threw  open  the  door,  and  Cristoval 
pegged  a  wavering  trail  out  into  the  plaza,  muttering  fer 
vent  thanks  to  the  Virgin  for  the  smell  of  the  blessed  air 
of  heaven.  Now  he  noticed  a  chill,  driving  rain,  but  the 
coolness  was  grateful,  and  he  filled  his  lungs,  tingling  to 
his  marrow  with  the  sudden  joy  of  freedom.  Across  the 
square  the  dark  walls  of  the  buildings  loomed  through 
the  mist,  and  to  the  right,  the  dim  mass  of  the  palace  with 
a  solitary  lantern  glimmering  faintly,  its  rays  reflected 
on  the  wet  pavement.  The  hour  was  late,  and  the  place 
deserted.  But  notwithstanding  its  vacancy  the  square 
was  uncomfortably  open,  and  he  at  once  sought  the  nearest 


THE    FLIGHT  161 

street  leading  from  it.  At  the  second  crossing  from  the 
plaza  he  turned  to  the  right.  This  would  bring  him  close 
to  the  postern  in  the  garden  wall.  He  had  but  three  blocks 
to  go,  but  they  were  long  and  seemed  interminable. 

He  had  gone  half  the  length  of  the  first  when  a  door 
opened  a  few  yards  in  his  front.  A  broad  ray  of  light  shot 
across  the  way,  and  he  ceased  to  breathe  as  half-a-dozen 
soldiers  came  out,  laughing,  and  shouting  good-night  to 
those  within.  They  stood  in  the  street  after  the  door 
closed,  and  Cristoval  slunk  hastily  into  a  doorway.  They 
were  so  near  that  he  recognized  their  voices.  All  were  of 
the  cavalry  but  one,  and  he  an  officer  of  the  foot.  They 
had  been  gaming,  and  one  was  recounting  the  story  of  his 
success.  He  finished  at  last  and  seemed  about  to  leave  the 
group,  starting  in  the  direction  of  the  prison-breaker,  who 
now  heartily  regretted  the  impulse  which  had  led  him  to 
take  shelter.  Had  he  gone  forward  he  might  have  stag 
gered  past  unnoticed,  but  discovered  lurking  in  a  door 
way  he  was  sure  to  be  questioned,  and  his  first  words 
would  reveal  the  masquerade,  for  Pedro's  voice  was  too 
well  known  to  admit  the  possibility  of  his  own  passing  for 
it  without  detection.  Should  this  man  accost  him  he 
would  have  to  be  killed,  and  that,  perhaps,  before  the 
others  were  out  of  ear-shot.  In  that  event  they  would  all 
be  back,  and  handicappd  by  the  wooden  leg  Cristoval's 
thoughts  were  broken  upon  by  the  words  of  one  of  the 
cavaliers. 

"  A  moment,  Pablo!  Hast  heard  of  the  game  between 
Mendoza  and  Rogelio?  No?  Then  't  is  worth  thy  stand 
ing  in  the  rain  to  listen  to  the  story.  It  is  like  a  romance 
out  of  Italy.  They  played  last  night  until  the  first  call 
this  morning,  Mendoza  losing  steadily.  That  greasy, 
whimpering  veedor  hath  a  dexterity  acquired  only  of  the 
foul  fiend  himself  —  thou  knowest  it,  I  surmise,  Pablo. 
Ha,  ha !  Well,  Mendoza  staked  and  lost  his  last  duro,  then 

ii 


162  THE    CRIMSON    CONQUEST 

his  horse,  then  his  share  in  the  division  of  the  goods  of 
our  hot-brained  friend,  Peralta,  and  was  about  to  quit 
a  bankrupt.  But,  would  Rogelio  take  his  note  of  promise? 
Saith  Rogelio,  '  Impossible,  my  dear  comrade !  He,  he ! ' 

—  ye  know  his  laugh,  Senores  — '  I  've  a  family  at  home, 
Mendoza.     'T  is  impossible ! ' 

"  '  Then  go  to  the  devil ! '  saith  Mendoza ;  '  thou  and 
thy  family,  thy  family's  family,  thy  posterity,  and  theirs ! ' 

"  '  He,  he ! '  squeaketh  the  <veedor.  '  Be  not  hasty, 
my  dear  brother-in-arms.  Wait  a  moment.  Thou  hast 

—  he,  he !  —  thou  hast  thy  honeysuckle,  the  Princess  — 
or  shalt  have  her  soon.    What  sayst  to  a  thousand  ducats 
against  her?     Eh,  Mendoza?     A  thousand  ducats!     They 
are  thine  if  thou  dost  win :  she  is  mine  if  thou  dost  lose.' 

"  '  Done ! '   saith  Mendoza,  and  they  play  again." 

"Santo  Sacramento/"  exclaimed  one  of  the  group. 
"  How  did  it  end?  " 

"  Mendoza  lost,"  replied  the  cavalier.  "  The  Senorita 
Nusta  is  a  chattel  of  Rogelio,  and  with  her  goeth  wealth 
untold,  for  she  is  as  rich  as  a  sultana.  But  Mendoza 
sweareth  to  win  her  back,  or  kill  the  -veedor.  He  hath  been 
out  all  day,  borrowing  money  to  play  again." 

The  tale  was  greeted  with  a  shout  of  laughter,  and 
after  a  few  more  words  the  party  separated.  The  infantry 
man  drew  his  cloak  about  his  face  against  the  rain  and 
hurried  toward  Cristoval,  the  others  going  in  the  direc 
tion  of  the  palace.  The  fugitive  set  down  the  basket  and 
gripped  his  sword. 

But  fate  and  the  rain  were  with  him,  for  the  man 
passed  with  bowed  head.  In  a  moment  Cristoval  would 
have  breathed  freely  but  for  the  choking  rage  stirred  by 
the  story  to  which  he  had  just  been  listening.  But  now 
the  way  was  clear,  and  spurred  to  mad  impatience,  he 
pressed  on.  The  peg  hindered  his  speed,  and  he  was  of 
half  a  mind  to  risk  its  removal,  but  thought  more  wisely 


THE   FLIGHT  163 

of  it  and  stumbled  along.  At  last  he  was  at  the  end  of 
the  street,  and  the  gate  was  nearly  opposite.  He  listened 
for  the  footfalls  of  the  sentinel  and  presently  heard  them 
approaching.  The  soldier  paced  leisurely  and  in  a  moment 
had  passed,  going  in  the  direction  of  the  square,  which 
Cristoval  guessed  would  be  the  end  of  his  post.  Now  for 
it;  and  he  crossed  the  street  toward  the  wall,  moving 
quietly  as  possible.  In  a  moment  he  was  in  the  garden 
and  had  closed  the  gate. 

"  God  bless  thee,  good  Pedro !  "  he  whispered,  hur 
riedly  unstrapping  the  peg.  He  laid  it  down  gently, 
picked  up  his  sword,  and  hastened  along  the  path  to  the 
palace. 

The  low  buildings  were  quite  dark  save  for  a  light  in 
the  guard-room,  but  he  knew  the  way  and  was  soon  grop 
ing  along  the  passage  which  led  to  the  women's  court. 
Its  fountain  plashed  quietly,  and  he  paused  for  a  drink, 
then  counted  the  doors  and  stopped  at  the  third.  He 
returned  his  sword,  rapped  gently  twice  or  thrice,  and 
presently  heard  a  movement  within  with  the  voices  of 
the  women,  evidently  in  trepidation.  Then  one  asked :  — 

"Who  is  there?" 

Cristoval  put  his  mouth  to  the  crack  of  the  door. 
"  It  is  I  —  the  Viracocha  Cristoval.  I  would  say  a  word 
to  Nuyalla.  Be  quick!  It  is  important." 

"Stars  of  heaven!"  he  heard  her  exclaim.  "The 
Viracocha  Cristoval !  Nuyalla,  Nuyalla !  He  would  speak 
with  thee." 

A  moment,  then  the  door  was  unfastened  and  opened 
a  finger's  breadth.  "  I  am  Nuyalla,"  said  a  low  voice, 
trembling.  "What  would  you,  Viracocha  Cristoval?" 

"  Lead  me  to  the  Nusta  Rava.  Quickly !  Quickly ! 
Hear'st  thou?  " 

"  But,  Viracocha  —  I  will  ask  her." 

"Then  haste,  Nuyalla!    There  is  danger." 


164  THE    CRIMSON    CONQUEST 

The  door  was  closed,  and  he  heard  it  barred.  It 
seemed  hours  before  it  was  reopened,  and  he  chafed  and 
swore  to  himself  in  the  darkness.  At  last  Nuyalla  peered 
out  with  a  lamp  above  her  head.  Cristoval  had  forgotten 
the  removal  of  his  beard,  and  stepped  forward  that  he 
might  be  recognized.  At  the  first  glimpse  the  girl  recoiled, 
and  Cristoval  saw  that  she  did  not  know  him.  She  made 
a  frantic  effort  to  close  the  door,  calling  to  the  others  to 
assist. 

"  Oh,  Madrel "  groaned  Cristoval,  in  desperation  as 
he  remembered  his  disguise.  He  threw  his  weight  against 
the  door,  forced  it  open,  and  stepped  inside,  closing  it 
behind  him.  The  movement  was  greeted  by  a  scream 
from  the  frightened  maids. 

"  Silence !  "  he  commanded,  sternly.  "  I  am  Cristoval, 
I  tell  you.  Lead  me  to  your  mistress.  __  There  is  danger, 
and  no  moment  to  lose.  Where  is  the  Nusta  Rava?  " 

His  only  answer  was  a  chorus  of  shrieks  from  the 
women,  who  had  stampeded  into  a  corner.  Nuyalla  had 
dropped  -her  lamp,  leaving  the  room  in  complete  darkness, 
and  adding  to  the  panic.  Their  cries  would  inevitably 
bring  the  guard,  as  Cristoval  knew.  He  was  stupefied 
as  he  realized  the  danger  of  the  situation  and  felt  his  own 
impotence  to  cope  with  it;  but  at  the  crisis  a  door  was 
suddenly  flung  open,  and  he  beheld,  to  his  unspeakable 
relief,  the  Princess,  a  lamp  in  hand,  and  pallid  to  her  lips. 

Cristoval  sank  upon  his  knee,  removing  his  sombrero 
and  speaking  -with  bowed  head  in  the  hope  that  his  voice 
might  be  recognized  before  she  should  behold  his  altered 
appearance. 

"  Will  the  Nusta  Rava  forgive  a  rough  intrusion  — 
and  in  the  name  of  Heaven,  still  these  women  before  the 
guard  is  roused  ?  " 

She  raised  her  hand  for  silence  to  the  maids  who  had 
already  crowded  about  her,  then  turned  to  him  with 
imperious  dark  eyes  demanding  explanation. 


THE   FLIGHT  165 

"  I  have  come  to  offer  my  aid,  Nusta  Rava,"  said  the 
cavalier. 

She  found  voice  with  an  effort,  beginning  thrice  before 
she  was  able  to  steady  it  sufficiently  to  say,  somewhat 
at  random  in  her  perturbation,  "  They  told  me  you  were 
a  prisoner,  Viracocha  Cristoval." 

"  I  was  a  prisoner  an  hour  ago.  I  have  broken  my 
bonds." 

He  looked  up,  and  she  started,  scrutinizing  his  face 
with  anxiety.  But  she  recovered  quickly,  and  he  arose. 
After  this  no  ceremony,  and  he  went  on,  speaking  directly 
and  as  rapidly  as  his  knowledge  of  the  Quichua  would 
allow :  — 

"  I  am  a  fugitive,  Nusta  Rava.  My  aid  may  avail  you 
little,  but  I  know  your  danger.  There  is  a  hope  to  escape 
it.  Once  clear  of  this  unhappy  town  you  will  be  among 
your  own  people.  Are  you  ready  to  flee?  Will  you 
trust  me?  You  must  say  quickly,  for  seconds  are  worth 
hours,  and  we  must  lose  not  one." 

She  made  no  reply,  but  stood  regarding  him  intently, 
her  clenched  hand  pressed  to  her  heart.  He  saw  that  she 
was  violently  trembling,  and  said  quietly :  "  Before  the 
dawn  we  can  be  well  away.  It  is  not  yet  midnight,  but 
we  must  hasten." 

"  Oh,  Viracocha  Cristoval ! "  she  murmured,  looking 
at  him  piteously,  struggling  in  agony  between  fear  and 
hope.  Should  she  trust  him?  Could  she  trust  one  of  these 
terrible  strangers?  Were  they  not  all  beasts  of  prey?  Yet 
this  one  seemed  to  have  a  human  heart,  and  had  been  her 
brother's  friend.  She  sought  the  depths  of  his  soul 
through  his  eyes.  Their  expression  was  intensely  earnest, 
but  frank  and  solicitous,  and  they  met  her  own  with  un 
reserve  and  quiet  steadiness.  Still  —  like  the  others  he 
was  a  Viracocha. 

Cristoval  read  her  thoughts.    "  Nusta  Rava,"  he  said 


166  THE    CRIMSON    CONQUEST 

gently,  "  I  promised  to  your  brother  that  with  the  aid  of 
Heaven  I  would  guard  you  from  harm.  I  am  ready  to 
do  so  at  the  cost  of  life.  But  we  are  wasting  precious 
moments  —  " 

He  paused  abruptly.  The  faint,  quick  notes  of  a  trum 
pet  were  sounding  in  the  distance. 

"  What  is  that?  "  whispered  the  Nusta,  turning  her 
head. 

"  The  alarm,"  replied  Cristoval,  quietly.  "  My  flight 
is  discovered."  He  strode  forward,  and  taking  her  by  the 
hand,  turned  her  toward  her  door.  "  Go !  Robe  yourself 
warmly  —  and  make  haste !  " 

He  urged  her  gently  forward,  but  she  turned,  crying 
in  anguish :  "  Fly,  oh,  fly,  while  there  is  yet  time !  You 
have  risked  your  life  in  coming  hither.  Go!  Save 
yourself ! " 

Cristoval  turned  to  Nuyalla  with  authority :  "  Quick ! 
Her  cloak!" 

It  was  brought  in  a  second,  and  he  threw  it  over 
Rava's  shoulders.  The  maids  were  kneeling  about  her, 
weeping,  clasping  her  knees,  frantically  pressing  her  hands, 
their  lamentations  threatening  to  rise  again  to  the  danger 
point.  She  stood  like  a  statue,  seeing  none  of  them  nor 
hearing  their  words. 

"Come!"  said  Cristoval.     "We  have  yet  time." 

She  cast  a  glance  at  his  masterful,  serious  face,  ex 
tended  her  hands  impulsively  to  her  women,  then  tore 
herself  from  their  embraces  with  a  sob,  and  followed  him 
to  the  door.  The  cavalier  turned. 

"  If  you  value  the  life  of  your  Princess,  see  that  you  be 
silent.  Make  fast  behind  us,  and  open  to  no  one  before 
the  morning."  He  stepped  out  into  the  darkness,  followed 
by  his  ward. 

He  led  rapidly  across  the  patio,  sword  in  hand.  They 
felt  their  way  through  the  blackness  of  the  corridor,  and 


THE   FLIGHT  167 

halted  at  its  entrance  upon  the  outer  court  while  Cristoval 
listened.  There  was  a  confusion  of  men's  voices  in  the 
guard-room,  but  the  great  court  was  vacant,  and  save  for 
the  drip  and  patter  of  the  rain,  was  silent. 

Cristoval  took  her  hand,  and  they  hurried  toward  the 
garden.  Here  he  drew  her  from  the  walk  into  the  shrub 
bery,  picking  his  way  under  the  low  branches  of  the  trees, 
which  showered  them  with  icy  drops  at  every  step.  They 
were  a  few  paces  from  the  postern  when  the  heavy  report 
of  one  of  the  falconets  on  the  redoubt  stopped  them  with 
a  shock,  and  startled  a  faint  scream  from  the  girl.  The 
alarm  gun!  Rava  pressed  the  folds  of  her  cloak  over 
her  lips,  and  Cristoval  shook  her  hand  warningly,  then 
hastened  on  in  silence. 

They  reached  the  postern,  and  with  the  utmost  cau 
tion  he  set  it  ajar  and  looked  out.  From  the  direction  of 
the  square  came  the  tread  of  the  sentinel,  moving  away. 
Cristoval  turned  to  Rava.  "  Now,  we  go.  Courage ! " 
he  whispered,  and  led  her  faltering  into  the  street. 

Sounds  came  from  the  square;  lights  were  flitting, 
horsemen  galloping.  They  hurried  across  to  the  nearest 
corner,  turned  into  the  side-street,  then  again  to  the  right 
in  the  direction  of  the  suburbs. 

"  Can  you  run?  "  he  whispered.  "  Then  we  must  do 
so."  At  every  corner  he  halted,  listening.  The  town  was 
up.  Several  parties  passed  on  nearby  streets,  hurrying 
toward  the  outskirts.  "  They  will  guard  the  ways," 
muttered  Cristoval.  "Bien!  We  shall  see!"  A  door 
opened  —  but  behind  them  —  and  a  belated  soldier 
hastened  toward  the  square,  buckling  as  he  ran,  while  the 
two  stood  against  a  wall  until  he  was  well  away.  They 
pressed  on. 

At  a  corner  they  almost  ran  upon  a  squad  of  soldiers 
just  entering  the  street  they  were  following.  But  the 
party  was  going  toward  the  suburbs,  and  the  fugitives 


i68  THE    CRIMSON    CONQUEST 

shrank  back  into  the  shadow  unobserved,  starting  on  again 
warily  when  the  footfalls  had  died  away.  Soon  the  houses 
grew  meaner,  with  vacant  spaces  between,  fences  of  rough 
wicker  enclosing  gardens,  and  here  and  there  a  quinuar 
tree.  They  were  in  the  purlieus  of  the  town,  and  presently 
turned  into  a  lane  which  wound  among  the  scattered  cot 
tages  and  led  off  somewhat  to  the  right,  less  directly 
toward  the  fields.  Here  they  left  the  pavement  and  trav 
elled  with  greater  difficulty,  splashing  into  puddles  and 
occasionally  stumbling  into  a  fence  or  wall  at  a  turn  in 
the  way,  but  evidently  getting  into  a  more  and  more  thinly 
peopled  quarter.  It  was  an  obscure  thoroughfare,  and  as 
Cristoval  surmised,  not  so  likely  to  be  guarded,  so  they 
went  with  less  caution.  Suddenly  his  feet  struck  a  pave 
ment,  and  he  knew  they  were  on  another  street. 

"Halt!" 

The  command  burst  fiercely  through  the  gloom,  from 
what  direction  the  startled  cavalier  could  not  tell,  and  he 
dashed  forward,  dragging  the  Nusta,  vainly  hoping  to 
evade  the  challenger. 

"  Halt ! "  was  shouted  again,  more  sharply,  this  time 
almost  in  his  face,  and  he  staggered  back  from  a  terrific 
thrust  of  a  pike  full  in  the  chest.  Rava's  shriek  answered 
the  rough  summons,  and  Cristoval  lost  her  hand.  The 
soldier  sprang  forward,  thrust  again,  and  missed.  Down 
the  street  toward  the  town  was  a  shout,  the  quick,  con 
fused  uproar  of  the  hoofs  of  horses  suddenly  spurred,  then 
the  rhythm  of  the  gallop.  The  soldier  lunged  wildly  in 
the  darkness,  and  now  Cristoval's  blade  engaged  his  pike. 
It  was  over  in  a  second.  The  fellow  thrust  a  few  times 
with  ferocity,  instantly  aware  of  dangerous  skill  in  front 
of  him,  ceased  abruptly,  and  went  down  with  a  choking 
cry.  Cristoval  whirled  away  from  him. 

"Rava!"  he  shouted. 

An  answer  came  faintly  from  the  roadside,  and  striding 


THE   FLIGHT  169 

in  the  direction  of  her  voice,  Cristoval  found  her  lean 
ing,  half  swooning,  against  the  wall.  "  Quick !  "  he  cried, 
seizing  her  hand.  "  We  must  run.  For  your  life,  run !  " 

The  fierce  energy  of  his  tone  gave  her  vigor.  Behind 
was  the  clamor  of  horsemen,  and  fear  winged  her  feet. 
Cristoval's  strength  seemed  to  lift  her  from  the  ground, 
and  as  she  sped  beside  him,  seeing  nothing,  barely  touch 
ing  the  earth,  and  blindly  confident  of  his  guidance,  there 
were  a  few  brief  minutes  of-  exhilaration. 

They  ran  until  Cristoval  heard  the  horses  reined  up 
at  the  wounded  soldier,  then  he  turned  to  the  right  of 
the  road.  Here  was  a  low  wall,  surmounted  in  a  moment, 
and  the  cavalry  roared  past  outside. 

They  found  themselves  surrounded  by  shrubbery  and 
trees  which  rendered  the  night  more  inky  black  than  it 
had  been  in  the  streets.  A  few  paces,  however,  brought 
them  to  an  open  of  some  extent,  and  beyond  rose  another 
shadowy  mass  of  foliage.  They  were  in  the  garden  of 
one  of  the  numerous  villas  by  which  the  town  was  sur 
rounded,  and  they  crossed  the  sward  at  a  run.  A  few 
yards  farther,  and  they  came  to  the  villa,  quite  deserted 
and  dark.  They  passed  it  close  and  saw  the  doors  were 
down.  Cristoval  remembered  that  it  had  been  plundered 
months  ago  by  the  soldiery.  The  place  served  to  give  him 
his  bearings,  and  he  knew  they  were  not  far  from  the 
fields.  As  they  stumbled  through  the  garden  in  the  rear 
they  heard  shouts  and  the  gallop  of  the  horsemen  return 
ing.  They  had  lost  the  scent. 

A  few  hundred  yards  brought  them  to  the  rear  wall 
of  the  garden.  They  were  as  quickly  over  as  at  the  other, 
and  in  the  open.  Now  they  paused  a  moment  to  listen, 
but  save  for  the  wind  and  rain  the  night  was  silent.  There 
was  no  sign  of  pursuit,  though  once  they  heard  a  shout  and 
answer,  far  in  the  rear,  probably  on  the  road  where  they 
had  encountered  the  sentinel. 


170 

They  pushed  on.  Vacant,  sodden  fields  were  all  about, 
very  low  and  level,  as  if  the  land  had  once  been  the  bed 
of  an  ancient  lake.  This  was  the  ground  swept  by  the 
enclosing  lines  of  the  Inca's  army  on  the  day  of  the 
massacre. 


CHAPTER  XVI 
Pedro  in  the  Thumbscrews 

CRISTOVAL'S  escape  was  promptly  uncovered 
in  this  wise.  After  he  had  staggered  away, 
the  guard  found  the  sentinel  in  a  corner,  com 
fortably  asleep  with  Pedro's  bottle.  Half  an 
hour's  work  and  several  bucketfuls  of  water  brought  him 
on  his  feet  and  aware  of  his  transgression,  impressed 
upon  him  by  the  sergeant  by  a  vigorous  train  of  invective. 
He  was  taken  to  the  guard-room  and  put  in  irons. 

When  Zapato  returned  the  sergeant  reported  a  man 
drunk,  and  the  need  for  a  substitute.  He  promptly  re 
ceived  his  quota  of  invective  for  having  a  man  drunk,  and 
Zapato  went  to  his  office  to  meditate  upon  the  circum 
stance  of  having  a  sergeant  who  had  a  man  drunk  on 
guard,  and  on  the  raking-over  which  he  in  turn  would 
receive.  He  had  settled  himself  to  reflect  upon  the  hard 
ships  and  chagrins  in  the  life  of  a  soldier,  when  he  was 
assailed  by  a  thought.  He  threw  open  the  door,  and 
demanded :  — 

"  Sergeant,  where  was  this  man  when  he  became 
drunk? " 

"  On  his  post,  Senor  Teniente" 

"  What  post?  " 

"In  front  of  Peralta's  door." 

Zapato  paled,  seized  a  lantern,  and  rushed  across 
the  patio  to  Cristoval's  door,  followed  by  the  sergeant. 
Two  or  three  of  the  guard  rose  and  sauntered  after. 
Zapato  entered  the  hastily  opened  door,  raising  his  lantern 
and  glancing  about.  He  muttered  his  relief.  On  the  bench 


172  THE    CRIMSON    CONQUEST 

lay  a  form,  apparently  sleeping.  Pedro  moved  slightly, 
clinking  the  manacles,  and  Zapato  was  satisfied.  He 
turned  to  go;  was  at  the  door  when  a  fresh  doubt  seized 
him,  and  he  went  back.  Pedro  lay  quite  still,  face  to  the 
wall;  but  Zapato  espied  his  pinioned  hands.  He  looked 
closer,  swinging  the  light  upon  the  face,  and  raised  a  howl 
of  rage  and  consternation. 

"Furies!  This  is  not  Peralta!  It's  Pedro!  Look, 
Sergeant  —  look,  thou  idiot!  Oh,  thou  doubly,  triply 
accursed  model  of  witlings!  Thou  unspeakable  effigy  of 
imbecility!  It's  Pedro,  dost  hear?  Pedro!  Oh,  saints 
and  devils,  we  're  skinned  alive  already !  " 

He  rolled  the  cook  over  while  the  sergeant  stood 
silently  making  crosses.  Others  hurried  in  and  gathered 
round  the  cook,  who  snored,  bulky  and  peaceful.  They 
hauled  him  off  the  bench,  every  man  shouting,  but  Pedro 
slept  calmly  on,  gurgling  gently  when  some  one  prodded 
his  ribs,  but  giving  no  other  sign  of  consciousness.  There 
was  his  stump  of  a  leg,  its  peg  gone,  vanished,  evaporated. 
But  Peralta  —  alas,  no  Peralta! 

"  Ho,  the  trumpeter !  —  the  alarm !  "  roared  Zapato, 
collaring  the  sergeant  and  running  him  to  the  door.  The 
sergeant  disappeared,  and  in  a  moment  the  call  sounded 
which  Cristoval  had  heard  in  the  Nusta's  apartment.  Its 
first  notes  were  ragged  and  discordant,  telling  the  mu 
sician's  disorder  of  mind.  Then  it  rose  clear  and  stirring, 
startling  many  a  Spaniard  out  of  dreams.  A  soldier  scur 
ried  across  the  plaza  to  the  redoubt,  carrying  a  lighted 
gunner's  match,  and  presently  the  flash  and  bang  of  the 
falconet  split  the  mist.  Now  individuals  and  groups  came 
running  to  the  square,  some  half-dressed,  others  buckling 
and  buttoning,  all  pale,  tousled,  and  breathless. 

Pizarro  was  one  of  the  first  out  of  doors.  A  messenger 
stammered  the  news,  and  withered  in  the  general's  blast 
of  fury.  Commands  followed  quickly.  Guards  to  every 


PEDRO    IN   THE   THUMBSCREWS       173 

exit  from  the  town.  Patrols  for  every  street.  Cavalry  for 
the  suburbs  and  roads.  A  thousand  castettanos  reward  for 
the  recapture.  Squads  formed  and  went  flying  down  dark 
streets,  halting  every  moving  man  and  woman.  Soon, 
horsemen  in  twos,  fours,  and  half-dozens  left  the  square  at 
the  gallop  in  all  directions.  Groups  of  natives  gathered, 
silent  and  wondering,  their  impassive  faces  dimly  seen  in 
the  light  of  passing  lanterns.  Caxamalca  had  no  more 
sleep  —  unless  Pedro's.  He  apparently  slept  on,  untrou 
bled,  under  the  eyes  of  one  of  the  guard  who  swore  ever 
afterward  that  he  had  seen  him  disembodied  on  that  gusty 
Peruvian  night. 

Toward  the  eighth  hour  of  the  morning  Pizarro, 
accompanied  by  his  secretary,  with  Almagro,  Riquelme, 
Rogelio,  and  Father  Valverde,  entered  the  prison.  Pedro 
heard  the  clatter  of  thumbscrews  as  they  were  set  upon 
the  floor  by  the  squad  of  halberdiers  who  followed.  The 
cook  was  sitting  with  bowed  head,  absorbed  in  misery.  He 
glanced  up  as  the  party  came  in,  saw  that  De  Soto  was  not 
with  it,  and  his  heart  sank.  The  captain  had  been  ordered 
out  with  the  rest  in  search  of  the  fugitive.  He  had  gone 
willingly  enough,  and  had  succeeded  hi  tactfully  reducing 
the  chances  of  discovery  by  leading  his  men  in  what  he 
guessed  was  the  wrong  direction.  But  at  that  moment 
he  would  have  been  a  welcome  sight  to  Pedro.  The  cook, 
however,  gave  no  sign,  but  invoked  the  aid  of  the  Virgin 
in  consuming  time  until  De  Soto  might  return. 

The  court  —  for  it  was  a  court,  duly  organized  and 
sworn,  albeit  summarily  —  first  examined  the  apartment 
with  minuteness  and  deliberation.  The  secretary  recorded 
its  findings.  The  fetters  were  inspected,  and  the  conclu 
sion  was  arrived  at,  agreed  to,  and  set  down,  that  they  had 
been  undone  by  a  file  or  similar  instrument.  Thereupon 
the  tribunal  proceeded  to  interrogate  those  suspected  of 
complicity.  First  came  Pedro.  After  him  would  come 


174 

the  sentinel  found  drunk  on  post,  the  two  artificers  who 
had  been  at  work  on  the  fastenings  of  the  door,  and  others. 
Thus  far  the  process  had  been  carried  on  with  dignity  and 
order.  Now  Rogelio,  who,  with  Riquelme,  was  to  conduct 
the  examination,  prepared  to  begin,  swelling  himself 
pompously,  pursing  his  lips,  puffing  his  cheeks,  and  rolling 
his  eyes  from  one  to  another  of  the  court,  until  Riquelme 
exclaimed  impatiently :  "  Infiernol  Commence,  Veedor,  be 
fore  the  morning  is  spent !  " 

Rogelio  opened  his  mouth  at  him,  then  turned  to 
Pedro.  "  Prisoner,"  he  piped.  Pedro  made  no  sign  of 
hearing  him. 

"  Prisoner ! "  he  repeated,  and  Pedro  looked  up, 
scowling. 

"Ho!  Art  addressing  me,  Veedor?  Then  change 
my  title.  I  am  a  cook.  A  cook,  look  thou !  A  cook  bereft, 
plundered,  despoiled,  and  ravished  of  a  leg!  Pray,  hast 
seen  it  —  my  missing  member?" 

Rogelio  hesitated,  snuffled,  and  with  dignity  began 
again. 

"Prisoner  —  " 

"  Cook,  I  tell  thee !  "  Pedro  interrupted,  explosively. 
"  Thy  prisoner  hath  flown  —  flown  with  three  legs,  one 
a  stolen,  and  that  one  mine  —  not  my  best,  in  truth,  only 
my  second  best ;  but  nevertheless  most  grievously  wanted. 
Hast  seen  it,  Veedor?" 

Rogelio's  mind  was  not  alert.  It  could  pursue  a  single 
line  of  thought  with  a  sort  of  porcine  tenacity,  but  the 
intrusion  of  a  second  idea  produced  derangement  requiring 
time  to  readjust.  His  attention,  now  drawn  to  Pedro's 
lost  peg  and  his  uncanny-looking  stump,  was  not  readily 
disengaged.  He  stood  surveying  the  cook's  maimed  mem 
ber  with  fascination  until  in  the  slow  revolution  of  his 
thoughts  they  should  come  back  to  their  former  connection. 
This  achieved,  he  began  again. 


175 

"  Prisoner  —  " 

"  Cook !  "  shouted  Pedro,  jerking  himself  erect  and 
glaring  at  the  -veedor.  The  latter  stopped,  and  Pizarro 
interfered. 

"  Be  done,  Pedro !  "  he  commanded,  angrily.  "  Cease 
interruptions  and  allow  the  veedor  to  proceed.  Continue, 
Veedor." 

"  Prisoner !  "   squeaked  the  <veedor. 

"  Cook !  "  roared  Pedro,  savagely. 

"  Oh,  in  the  devil's  name,  let  him  have  his  way ! " 
Almagro  broke  in.  "  Call  him  cook  —  anything  —  but  be 
gin,  Rogelio !  " 

"  Well  —  cook,"  said  Rogelio,  wiping  his  forehead, 
"thou  art  charged  with  having  guilty  knowledge  of  the 
means  whereby  the  late  prisoner,  Cristoval  de  Peralta, 
hath  effected  his  escape." 

Pedro  nodded  gloomily.  "  So  I  have ! "  he  assented. 
"  'T  is,  alas,  true !  Unhappily  I  have  such  knowledge, 
Veedor.  I  know  that  he  effected  his  escape  on  three  legs, 
as  I  have  said.  May  the  third  help  him  into  hell !  It  was 
mine,  I  tell  thee,  and  I  want  it  back.  What !  Am  I  a  centi 
pede,  thinkest  thou,  to  go  sloughing  legs  here  and  yon,  all 
my  days  on  earth  ?  I  've  lost  three,  already  —  one  of  them 
mine  inheritance  of  flesh  and  bone,  the  other  twain  hewn 
from  good  oak  of  Aragon.  All  gone!  Stew  me,  I  sicken 
of  losing  legs !  " 

The  response  produced  a  new  tangle  in  Rogelio's 
thread,  and  before  he  had  it  straightened  Riquelme  growled 
and  took  up  the  questioning. 

"  Here,  Pedro,"  he  said  sternly,  "  Peralta  had  a  file 
wherewith  he  filed  his  fetters.  Thou  wast  the  only  man 
save  the  guard  and  the  artificers  who  had  access  to  him. 
How  came  he  by  it?  " 

"  Ah,  a  file  had  he !  "  returned  Pedro,  with  irritation. 
"  Well,  curse  it !  let  him  have  his  file  —  or  files,  or  rasps, 


176  THE   CRIMSON   CONQUEST 

or  grindstones !  May  he  chew  them !  But  he  filed  not  my 
leg  off,  I  tell  thee  that,  Sefior  Treasurer!  He  took  it  all 
—  peg,  socket,  straps,  and  buckles.  May  it  stick  in  his 
gullet!  But  look  at  me,  thou  who  hast  two  good  legs! 
Am  I  in  a  condition  of  mind  or  legs  to  sing  to  thee  of  files? 
Am  I  a  newsmonger  of  files?  A  murrain  on  all  files  and 
filers !  I  want  my  leg !  " 

Riquelme  grew  red,  and  Almagro  grinned  maliciously ; 
but  Pizarro  was  angry.  "  Answer  the  question,  thou 
eternal  babbler !  "  he  commanded.  "  How  came  Peralta 
by  that  file  ?  Thou  knowest,  and  we  '11  have  it  out  of  thee. 
Answer ! " 

Pedro  turned  from  him.  "  Oh,  a  curse  upon  Peralta 
and  his  file!  What  care  I  who  gave  him  his  file?  Have 
I  not  mine  own  peculiar  grief?  And  is  it  not  grief  enough 
but  that  I  must  be  assailed  with  scare-devil  bellowings  by 
madmen  who  have  lost  a  file?  A  surceasance  of  it!  Ye 
have  talked  enough  to  grow  me  another  leg.  Ye  rasp 
my  nerves  with  your  bully-ragging  about  a  file.  I  Ve  lost 
a  leg!" 

Pizarro  stamped  with  fury  and  ordered  the  screws. 
Almagro  protested,  and  was  ignored.  The  instrument  was 
brought  forward,  and  the  general  demanded :  "  Once  more, 
cook,  and  finally  —  wilt  give  information?" 

Pedro  had  braced  himself  for  what  he  had  known  was 
inevitable,  though  he  had  hoped  that  delay  might  bring 
De  Soto.  No  word  escaped  him.  He  took  the  torture, 
a  hero,  with  hardly  a  groan.  Thrice  he  fainted,  and  at 
the  end  of  an  atrocious  hour,  Almagro  interfered. 

"  Faugh,  Pizarro !  Enough !  Enough !  For  the  sake 
of  Heaven,  give  over!  It  groweth  sickening.  Pass  him 
and  take  another.  Curse  me!  he  is  entitled  to  be  let  go 
for  his  fortitude,  whether  he  knoweth  aught  or  naught! 
Put  it  to  the  drunken  sentinel.  He  is  the  man  to  be 
squeezed,  if  any  —  and  the  two  artificers.  If  thou  canst 


PEDRO    IN   THE   THUMBSCREWS       177 

narrow  the  matter  down  to  this  crackle-pated  cook,  then 
come  back  to  him  and  rack  him,  or  hang  him  if  't  is  worth 
thy  while.  But  now,  have  done.  Off  with  those  screws, 
men !  I  'm  a  thief  if  I  'll  see  more  of  it !  Off  with  them !  " 

Pedro  had  fainted  for  the  third  time.  The  soldiers 
looked  to  Pizarro.  He  glanced  surlily  at  his  partner,  whose 
single  eye  met  his  own  with  an  expression  which  he  had 
seen  it  wear  before.  It  promised  a  quarrel.  Father  Val- 
verde  joined  Almagro's  protest.  The  veedor  alone  yelped 
an  objection,  and  it  decided  the  question  in  Pedro's  favor. 
Pizarro  hesitated  and  said  coldly :  — 

" Bienl  So  be  it!  Release  him,  soldiers.  We  can 
come  to  him  again;  and  by  the  Eternal,  do  we  find  him 
guilty  I  '11  draw-and-quarter  him  in  the  square !  Take  off 
the  screws." 

Within  the  hour  the  sentinel  was  haled  before  the 
court,  followed  by  the  two  artificers  and  several  of  the 
guard.  All  swore  willingly  against  Pedro,  —  too  willingly, 
said  Almagro,  with  vehemence;  but  for  the  cook  the  affair 
looked  grave. 

He  was  left  in  prison,  horribly  sick  from  the  ordeal, 
but  determined  not  to  betray  the  man  who  had  sent  the 
file,  —  the  rack,  fire  itself,  could  not  have  forced  it  from  him. 

De  Soto  returned  late  in  the  afternoon.  Jose  sought 
him  while  he  was  disarming,  and  shocked  him  with  the 
news  that  Pedro  had  been  tortured,  and  was  in  danger  of 
worse.  The  captain  had  taken  off  his  helmet,  but  he  re 
placed  it,  buckled  on  his  sword,  and  started  toward  the 
door.  The  old  Morisco  halted  him  with  a  hand  upon  his 
arm. 

"  Hold,  Soto!  "  he  said.    "  What  dost  intend?  " 

"  To  have  Pedro  released.  I  promised  to  protect  him, 
and  by  my  soul,  I  will  do  so!  Pizarro  hath  gotten  ahead 
of  me,  but  he  shall  go  no  farther,  or  I  '11  —  " 

"  Wait !  "  urged  Jose,  detaining  him.     "  Be  not  rash, 

12  *  1 


178  THE   CRIMSON    CONQUEST 

young  man,  or  thou  'It  draw  suspicion  upon  thyself.  Hear 
me!  I  will  claim  the  blame  if  need  be,  and  flee  into  the 
mountains.  But  first,  do  thou  see  Almagro.  He  did  not 
favor  the  torture,  and  together  you  may  be  able  to  prevent 
by  persuasion  what  thou  canst  easily  precipitate  by  heat 
and  defiance.  If  you  fail,  then  accuse  me,  who  sent  the 
file." 

"  No  sooner  thee  than  myself,  who  am  equally  in 
volved,  Jose !  "  responded  De  Soto,  stoutly.  "  I  '11  make 
no  accusation." 

"  Then  see  Almagro,  and  keep  me  informed." 

"  Very  well.  I  will  do  so."  De  Soto  hurried  out. 
He  found  the  bluff  Almagro  a  ready  ally.  Pedro  had  won 
his  soldierly  admiration,  and  he  swore  that  the  cook  was 
far  too  good  a  man  to  be  sacrificed  for  a  matter  largely 
personal  with  the  commander.  He  went  straightway  with 
De  Soto  to  Pizarro. 

The  interview  was  prolonged.  At  times  it  grew 
stormy,  even  threatened  the  division  in  the  army  which 
the  general  dreaded  more  than  external  foes;  but  in  the 
end  he  permitted  the  cook's  release  on  De  Soto's  respon 
sibility,  with  the  latter's  promise  to  produce  him  for  trial 
when  called  upon.  Pedro  was  removed  at  once  to  De 
Soto's  quarters  to  be  nursed  back  to  himself  and  guarded 
against  Pizarro  until,  in  the  preparations  for  the  march 
to  Cuzco,  his  suspected  offence  was  overlooked.  But  the 
General  was  fairly  satisfied  of  the  cook's  guilt,  and  only 
the  resolute  and  avowed  interest  of  Almagro  and  De  Soto 
prevented  summary  vengeance.  Pizarro  raged  under  the 
necessity  of  biding  his  time. 

The  day  following  Cristoval's  flight  had  passed  with 
out  discovery  of  his  trail,  though  every  soldier  not  on  other 
duty  joined  the  search,  stimulated  by  the  offered  reward. 
It  was  exhilarating  sport,  this  man-hunt  with  so  much  in 
store  for  the  captor,  and  the  zest  was  heightened  by  bets 


179 

whether  he  would  be  taken;  if  so,  whether  alive;  or 
whether  he  would  be  compelled  by  hunger  or  native 
hostility  to  surrender.  The  sole  trace  of  the  escape  was 
with  the  sentinel  run  through  by  Cristoval's  sword. 
Brought  in  unconscious,  he  was  still  too  weak  to  impart 
such  information  as  he  might  possess.  Rain  had  oblit 
erated  every  footprint,  and  the  flight  was  as  clean  as  if 
made  on  wings.  The  Nusta  Rava's  absence  had  not  been 
discovered.  The  report  that  a  woman's  scream  had  been 
heard  when  the  sentinel  was  assaulted  received  no 
attention. 

Early  in  the  evening,  however,  it  was  recalled,  and 
the  excitement  freshened.  Pizarro  sat  with  Almagro, 
Riquelme,  and  others,  receiving  officers  as  they  straggled 
in  from  the  day's  ineffectual  hunt.  Mendoza,  most  inde 
fatigable  of  all  and  last  to  give  it  up,  had  just  been  talking. 
He  was  leaning  against  the  table,  weary,  rain-soaked, 
mud-spattered  from  head  to  foot,  his  corselet  streaked  with 
rust,  and  his  face  begrimed  and  surly.  He  had  just  finished 
when  the  door  flung  open  abruptly,  and  the  <veedor,  blowing 
as  if  from  a  run,  his  face  purple  and  perspiring,  burst  into 
the  room.  He  halted,  gasped,  strove  to  speak,  and  choked, 
stared  wildly  about,  bolted  to  a  chair,  and  sat  down. 
Riquelme  rose,  aghast  at  his  colleague's  grotesque  symp 
toms  of  distress. 

"What  the  devil  is  the  matter  with  the  man?"  he 
cried.  "  Holy  Mother,  he  hath  a  fit  coming !  Bleed  him, 
somebody !  " 

Rogelio  rolled  his  eyes  at  him  and  raised  his  hand, 
shaking  his  head  in  violent  negation.  Twice  he  gasped 
again,  then  managed  to  pipe  faintly,  "  Oh  —  my  stars !  — 
the  Nusta!" 

"JThe  Nusta!"  repeated  Riquelme.  "Well,  what  of 
the  Nusta?  Speak,  thou  puffing  symbol  of  calamities 
unknown!  What  of  her?" 


i8o  THE    CRIMSON    CONQUEST 

"  Flown ! "  whispered  the  <veedor,  grasping  the  arms 
of  his  chair  in  the  effort  to  catch  breath. 

"What  sayst  thou?  Hath  flown!"  shouted  Men- 
doza,  jerking  him  backward  to  see  his  face.  "  The  Nusta 
hath  flown!  Whither?  Whither,  I  say!"  and  Mendoza 
shook  out  of  him  his  little  remaining  breath. 

"  Come,  Mendoza,  unhand  him,"  said  Almagro.  "  Let 
him  have  his  wind  or  he  '11  perish  undelivered  of  his 
information." 

Mendoza  scowled  about  the  room  and  dashed  out, 
leaving  Rogelio  with  his  eyes  rolled  to  the  rafters,  swing 
ing  his  head  slowly  from  side  to  side  and  waving  his  arms, 
apparently  in  the  last  stage  of  asphyxiation.  Pizarro  or 
dered  his  secretary  to  investigate.  Xerez  soon  returned 
with  confirmation.  Shortly  Mendoza  strode  in,  his  black 
looks  leaving  no  doubt.  The  Nusta  had  vanished. 

"  Hath  the  garden  been  searched?  "  asked  Pizarro. 

"  The  guard  hath  hunted  every  nook  of  grounds  and 
buildings,"  replied  the  secretary.  "  Doubtless  she  went 
last  night  with  Peralta." 

"  When  didst  learn  of  it,  Rogelio?  "  demanded  Pizarro, 
after  a  moment  of  silence. 

The  -veeaor  passed  his  sleeve  across  his  forehead  and 
snuffled,  "  Just  now  —  just  came  from  her  room." 

Mendoza  was  upon  him  again.  '"Just  came  from  her 
room!  "  he  thundered.  "  What  devil's  business  hadst  thou 
in  her  room?  Didst  not  swear  to  keep  away  until  we  had 
played  once  more?  What  business,  thou  lizard?  " 

Rogelio  sidled  from  his  seat  precipitately  and  took 
refuge  behind  Pizarro  before  replying.  "  She  's  mine !  " 
he  squeaked.  "  I  won  her  at  dice.  Pizarro,  I  claim  your 
protection  as  a  civil  officer  of  the  Crown." 

"  With  a  wife  and  five  small  children  at  home !  "  added 
Almagro,  with  a  disagreeable  laugh.  "Fie,  Rogelio!" 

Rogelio  blinked  at  him  viciously,  and  Pizarro  ended 


PEDRO   IN   THE   THUMBSCREWS       181 

the  discussion.  "  You  will  settle  your  affairs  elsewhere, 
Senores.  This  is  no  place  for  it."  He  bowed  significantly, 
and  both  left  the  room,  the  <veedor  tarrying  uncomfortably 
until  Mendoza  should  be  out  of  the  palace. 

The  <veedor  was  quartered  with  Riquelme  a  few  squares 
from  the  plaza. 

Leaving  the  palace,  he  went  directly  to  his  house,  half 
expecting  Mendoza's  blade  between  his  civil-official  ribs 
at  almost  any  moment.  He  reached  it  safely,  and  sat  the 
greater  part  of  the  evening  blinking  at  the  light,  laboring 
with  a  thought.  He  heard  Riquelme  come  in  with  com 
panions,  and  going  to  the  rear  of  the  patio  later,  roused 
one  of  his  servants  and  beckoned  him  out. 

"Vilpalca,"  he  said,  "dost  know  Felipillo?  Good! 
Go  fetch  him." 

He  returned  and  sat  again  blinking  at  the  light,  slowly 
rubbing  his  hands,  now  chuckling  without  mirth,  now  com 
muning  with  himself  in  emphatic  whispers  with  many 
a  sniffle  interspersed.  Within  an  hour  his  servant  returned, 
leading  Felipillo.  The  young  renegade  entered  sulkily, 
twirling  his  plumed  cap  and  looking  shiftily  at  Rogelio, 
who  greeted  him  with  effusive  condescension. 

"  Ah,  Felipillo,"  he  twittered ;  "  I  am  glad  to  see  thee, 
Felipillo.  How  hath  it  gone  with  thee?  Sit,  boy,  and  I  '11 
pour  thee  a  bit  of  chicha.  Here." 

Felipillo  seated  himself  on  the  edge  of  a  chair,  glanced 
contemptuously  at  the  very  small  drink,  and  tossed  it  off 
at  a  gulp. 

"Well,  how  hast  prospered?"  continued  the  veedor. 
"Hast  played  in  luck?  Not  in  excessive  luck,  eh,chtco! 
Thou  'rt  a  bit  seedy,  not  so?  He,  he !  But  we  all  have 
varied  fortunes  at  play,  Felipillo,  now  high,  now  low. 
But  I  would  rejoice  to  see  thee  in  better  feather,  my  young 
friend.  I  would,  on  my  soul ! " 

Felipillo  regarded  him  with  suspicious  surprise,  and 


182  THE    CRIMSON    CONQUEST 

the  i>eedor went  on :  "I 've  sent  for  thee  on  a  little  matter 
of  business,  my  boy.  A  matter,  in  fact,  of  —  he,  he !  — 
diplomacy.  We  Spaniards,  as  thou  knowest,  are  great 
in  diplomacy.  I  hope  thy  coming  did  not  incommode 
thee!" 

"  I  was  going  to  bed,"  grunted  Felipillo,  with  bad 
grace. 

"To  bed  so  early?  Wise  boy!  But  'tis  a  sign  of  a 
thin  purse,  is  it  not  ?  —  or  want  of  favor  among  the  ladies 
—  or  both,  eh?  Sometimes  they  go  together.  Too  bad, 
too  bad!" 

The  veedor  grinned  upon  him,  meeting  a  sour  glance 
in  reply,  then  resumed. 

"  Now,  Felipillo,  what  dost  think  I  had  in  mind  in 
sending  for  thee?  Eh,  boy?  What  dost  imagine?  Sup 
pose  I  should  say  it  was  to  offer  thee  —  say,  a  hundred 
castettanos  I " 

,Felipillo  looked  as  if  he  would  consider  the  statement 
a  lie  if  made,  but  did  not  say  so. 

"  A  hundred  castellanos,  or  maybe  a  hundred  and 
fifty,"  continued  Rogelio,  rubbing  his  hands  and  peering 
into  the  face  of  the  interpreter.  The  youth  gave  him  a 
brief,  searching  glance,  and  looked  away. 

"  I  really  think  of  it,"  said  the  veedor.  "  Upon  my 
honor  I  do !  A  hundred  and  fifty  castellanos  —  but  not 
more,  understand  —  not  more.  Of  course,  my  young 
friend,  thou  wouldst  naturally  hope  to  make  some  return 
for  it,  now  wouldst  thou  not?  He,  he!  Beyond  a  doubt, 
beyond  a  doubt !  I  see  it  in  thy  generous  eye.  Bien  I  Now, 
this  is  what  I  have  to  say.  The  Nusta  Rava  —  my  Nusta 
Rava!  —  hath  fled,  as  thou  knowest,  with  that  bullying, 
swearing,  blood-drinking  scoundrel,  Peralta.  I  want  her 
back.  Mendoza  wants  her  back.  I  won  her  fairly  at  play, 
and  she  is  mine;  but  I  see  that  it  grateth  him  to  give  her 
up.  If  he  taketh  her,  he  may  not  give  her  up.  May  the 


PEDRO    IN    THE   THUMBSCREWS       183 

plague  torture  him  a  thousand  years!  Now,  seest  thou, 
I  am  not  a  man  of  arms.  If  I  were,  I  would  pursue  her 
myself.  But  I  am  a  civilian  —  an  officer  of  the  Crown, 
with  a  wife  and  —  that  is  to  say,  Felipillo,  I  must  not  en 
danger  myself  in  the  hardship  of  a  pursuit.  I  am  not 
inured  to  it.  I  am  too  old  —  at  least,  my  life  and  services 
are  too  valuable."  The  <veedor  paused  here  to  inflate  his 
cheeks  while  he  leaned  back  and  surveyed  the  youth  with 
dignity.  But  the  dignity  was  marred  somewhat  by  the 
snuffle  with  which  he  ended. 

"  Dost  follow  me?  Good!  Now,  what  I  want  of  thee 
is  this.  Go  to  the  camp  of  the  Canares,  over  the  river,  and 
set  a  pack  of  them  on  the  scent  of  the  runaways.  What 
sayst  thou?  Mind  thee  —  a  hundred  and  fifty  castellanos, 
good  yellow  gold !  " 

Felipillo  had  kept  his  eyes  upon  him  with  unusual 
steadiness.  Now  he  looked  aside,  weighed  the  proposition, 
and  shook  his  head.  "  Impossible,  Senor." 

"Impossible!  Why  impossible?"  demanded  the 
weedor,  leaning  eagerly  forward.  "  One  hundred  and  fifty 
castellanos  for  thine  own  purse,  boy !  Why  not  ?  " 

"  Because  one  hundred  and  fifty  castellanos  would  not 
pay  me  and  hire  them.  A  thousand  castellanos  would  not 
hire  them,  Senor,  for  they  care  not  for  gold.  They  know 
not  its  worth." 

"  H'm !  True !  "  said  Rogelio,  his  jaw  suddenly  drop 
ping  in  disappointment.  "  But  —  well,  what  would  hire 
them?  Chicha?" 

"  Chicha  might,  but  they  can  get  it  more  easily." 

"Then  what  would?"  snapped  the  <veedor.  "Beastly 
savages,  not  to  know  the  worth  of  money ! " 

Felipillo  was  silent.  Rogelio  watched  him  anxiously 
for  a  time,  then  sat  in  a  study.  Finally  he  exclaimed: 
"  Boy,  I  have  it !  These  Canares  chafe  under  the  yoke 
of  Tavantinsuyu,  not  so?  " 


184  THE    CRIMSON    CONQUEST 

Felipillo  nodded. 

"Aha!  Baeno!  Bueno!"  said  the -veedor,  rubbing  his 
hands.  "  We  '11  offer  them  freedom." 

"We,  Senor?" 

"  I,  dolt ;  I,  myself !    I  '11  promise  it  them." 

"Thou,  Senor!     They  will  know  better." 

"Bah!  We  can  lie  a  little.  But  why  not  I?" 
Rogelio  became  suddenly  pompous.  "  Thou  knowest  not 
my  standing  at  home,  boy.  A  letter  from  me  to  the 
Colonial  Council,  or  to  his  Majesty,  would  have  weight,  let 
me  tell  thee.  But  as  I  say,  we  can  promise." 

"  It  will  not  answer,"  said  Felipillo,  positively. 
"  Moreover,  they  are  like  to  be  free,  now,  without  any 
body's  leave." 

The  <veedor's  jaw  sagged  again.  He  studied  heavily, 
and  presently  looked  up.  "  Felipillo,  I  '11  tell  thee  what 
will  effect  it,  —  license  of  rapine !  —  liberty  to  plunder  the 
natives  hereabouts  after  we  have  marched!  By  the  sacra 
ment,  I  can  promise  them  they  shall  have  that,  for  a 
surety ! " 

"  They  will  have  it  anyway,"  replied  Felipillo. 

"Demoniol"  retorted  Rogelio,  testily.  "But  they  will 
value  a  formal  permit.  I  '11  give  it.  Bring  hither  their 
chiefs  to-morrow  night.  Smuggle  them  in,  dost  under 
stand?  and  I  '11  wag  a  parchment  before  their  eyes  with 
a  seal  and  ribbons  on  it.  Thou  'It  see !  A  liberality  with 
chicha  will  make  the  bargain  easy.  What  sayst  thou? 
Wilt  deal  with  them  for  me?  I  know  not  the  language." 

Felipillo  considered  long,  to  the  -veedor's  impatience, 
and  said  at  last,  "  It  would  do  it,  Senor,  that  is  certain, 
but  —  " 

"  Well,  but  what?  "  demanded  Rogelio. 

The  youth  shook  his  head.  "  One  hundred  and  fifty 
castellanos,  Senor  —  " 

The  <veedor  wrenched  himself  about  in  his  chair.    "  Oh, 


PEDRO    IN   THE    THUMBSCREWS       185 

infiernol  'Tis  princely  —  princely,  I  tell  thee!  It  would 
brush  thee  up,  stake  thy  games,  reinstate  thee  among  the 
ladies !  It  might  be  thy  making." 

Again  Felipillo  shook  his  head. 

"  Murder  and  arson !  "  yelped  the  <veedor,  beginning  to 
perspire.  "  Thou  'rt  grasping,  boy !  One  hundred  and  fifty 
casiettanos  I  Oh,  Madre  I  Then  make  it  two  hundred." 

Felipillo  arose  with  a  shrug,  one  of  his  acquirements 
from  the  Spaniards.  It  enraged  the  <veedor. 

"  Then  go  to  the  devil !  "  he  piped.  "  'T  is  all  thou  'It 
get.  Two  hundred  not  enough !  Oh,  my  stars !  " 

Felipillo  moved  toward  the  door.  Rogelio  mopped  his 
neck  and  jowls  vigorously.  "  Wait,  thou  varlet !  —  say 
two  hundred  and  fifty !  Two  hundred  and  fifty,  gold !  " 

Felipillo  shrugged  again,  still  moving,  and  the<veedor 
broke  into  a  stream  of  squeaky  oaths.  When  the  youth 
reached  the  door  he  sprang  up. 

"Hold,  thou  tanned  son  of  Belial!  Here!  Wait! 
Three  hundred,  and  not  a  mara'vedi  more !  " 

"Buenos  nochesl"  said  Felipillo,  with  a  grin,  and  went 
out.  Rogelio  stood  for  a  second,  choking,  then  rushed 
after,  collared  him  in  the  patio,  and  dragged  him  back.  He 
thrust  him  into  a  chair,  hurried  to  a  chest,  unlocked  it 
feverishly,  whispering  curses  the  while,  and  drew  out  a 
bag.  Waddling  to  the  table,  he  thrust  in  his  hand,  with 
drew  it  full  of  coin,  and  counted.  Another  handful  counted, 
and  he  cried :  "  There,  knave,  three  hundred !  Wilt  do  it?  " 

Felipillo  hesitated,  and  Rogelio  swept  them  together  to 
return  them  to  the  bag. 

"Sit  Sehor,"  said  the  youth. 

The  -veedor  sank  into  his  chair,  scrubbing  his  reddened 
countenance,  while  Felipillo  gathered  up  the  gold.  "  I  will 
go  to-morrow,  Senor,"  said  the  boy. 

"  See  thou  dost ! "  returned  the  -veedor  with  a  snarl. 
"  Fool  me  now,  and  it  will  be  the  worse  for  thee." 


i86  THE    CRIMSON    CONQUEST 

He  watched  the  youth  to  the  door,  saw  it  closed,  and 
sprang  to  his  feet,  shaking  his  two  fists  after  him.  "Aha ! 
Thou  wouldst  jew  me,  thou  renegade  imp ! "  he  shrilled. 
"  Thou  wouldst,  thou  terra  cotta  rascal !  By  the  Crucifix, 
thou  shalt  hang  for  thy  cunning,  so  help  me  Saint  Peter! 
Thou  shalt  hang  for  it  —  hang  —  hang  —  hang  I  Three 
hundred  good  castellanos  I  Oh,  my  soul  and  body !  " 

But  three  days  later  a  band  of  half  a  hundred  of  the 
fierce  mountain  Canares  were  nosing  for  the  trail  of  Cristo- 
val  and  his  protegee. 


CHAPTER  XVII 

The  Fugitives  in  the  Wilderness 

ONCE  more  to  the  fugitives.  The  town  left  well 
behind,  and  the  immediate  danger  of  pursuit  now 
past,  the  stimulus  of  live  fear  was  removed,  and 
Rava's  spirit  began  to  flag.  She  was  feeling 
the  weary  length  of  the  night  with  its  never-ending  plash, 
plash,  plash,  through  the  darkness,  pelted  by  the  rain,  be 
labored  by  the  wind,  and  seemingly  going  nowhere.  There 
were  few  landmarks  but  ghostly  trees  and  the  innumerable 
small  ditches,  each,  hi  the  murk,  so  like  those  left  behind 
that  there  seemed  to  her  distressed  and  overwrought  mind 
but  a  single  one,  presenting  itself  over  and  over  again  by 
some  enchantment,  to  be  crossed  and  recrossed  until  de 
spair  should  bring  them  to  earth.  Her  sodden  garments 
clung  to  her,  impeding  every  step.  Her  cloak,  weighted  by 
the  rain,  thrashed  about  by  the  gale,  bore  upon  her  as  if 
made  of  lead,  staggering  her  with  its  bufferings.  The 
struggle  was  exhausting,  and  she  already  felt  its  effects. 
They  rested  frequently,  Cristoval  striving  to  stay  the  ebb 
ing  of  her  courage,  but  noting  with  grave  concern  her 
waning  strength.  At  last,  to  his  complete  dismay,  she  gave 
up,  weeping. 

"  Oh,  Viracocha  Cristoval,"  she  sobbed,  "  I  can  go  no 
farther!  Leave  me  and  save  yourself.  Alone,  you  can 
escape,  but  I  can  only  be  a  fatal  hindrance.  Go,  I  pray 
you!" 

The  cavalier  would  have  been  less  disturbed  had  a 
dozen  soldiers  sprung  up  before  him,  and  would  have 


i88  THE    CRIMSON    CONQUEST 

known  better  what  to  do.  "Oh,  Holy  Mother!"  he 
groaned  to  himself,  "  look  upon  a  helpless  sinner  and  aid 
him  now !  A  weeping  girl  in  the  middle  of  a  heathen  corn 
field  in  the  middle  of  a  heathen  rainy  night,  and  not  another 
woman  within  a  league  to  run  for !  "  He  contemplated  the 
dim,  quivering  form  with  an  embarrassment  exceeded  only 
by  his  compassion. 

"  Go,  Viracocha !  "  she  urged,  with  a  moan  whose  pite- 
ousness  brought  him  to  his  senses. 

"  Why,  God  help  me,  child ! "  he  exclaimed,  impetu 
ously.  "  I  would  as  quickly  think  of  leaving  thee  as  of 
pulling  the  nose  of  the  Pope !  Come,  now,  chiquita  mta,  do 
not  weep !  Thou  'rt  weary,  I  know  —  and  cold.  Well,  I  '11 
tell  thee  —  we  must  be  moving,  thou  knowest  —  and  I  '11 
carry  thee  for  a  space.  Presently  thou  'It  be  rested,  then 
we  '11  walk  again.  Hush,  now,  little  one !  " 

Without  heeding  her  protests  he  lifted  her  and  strode 
on  with  her  in  his  arms.  For  some  distance  the  girl  wept 
quietly  on  his  shoulder  while  he  strove  to  soothe.  The 
good  Cristoval  was  as  fatherly  as  if  she  had  been  his  own, 
and  before  long  her  tears  had  subsided.  But  he  was  less 
cheerful  than  his  words  were  cheering.  There  was  impor 
tunate  need  of  speed,  and  speed  was  impossible. 

They  kept  on  to  the  southward  until  an  hour  before 
the  dawn.  Their  halts  were  infrequent  now,  but  often  the 
cavalier  took  his  ward  into  his  arms  and  carried  her  until 
she  was  able  to  struggle  along  beside  him,  half  supported. 
At  last  they  turned  to  the  west,  and  within  an  hour  were 
on  the  great  road,  going  toward  Guamachucho.  They 
pushed  on  more  rapidly  and  in  silence,  Cristoval  preoccu 
pied  with  the  immediate  future.  He  was  debating,  in  the 
main,  the  policy  of  at  once  making  themselves  and  the  situ 
ation  known  to  the  natives  of  the  valley,  to  secure  their 
aid.  He  finally  decided  against  it.  He  had  no  doubt  of 
their  willingness  and  loyalty,  but  danger  lay  in  the  nearness 


FUGITIVES    IN    THE   WILDERNESS        189 

of  Caxamalca.  A  suspicion  on  the  part  of  the  Spaniards 
that  these  people  had  knowledge  of  the  fugitives  would  be 
warrant  for  an  effort  to  extort  it,  and  Cristoval  was  too 
well  acquainted  with  Spanish  methods  to  feel  sure  that  the 
effort  would  be  unsuccessful.  Pizarro  would  not  hesitate 
at  any  cruelty  to  gain  the  information,  and  the  safest  plan 
would  be  to  leave  no  traces.  Before  twenty-four  hours  he 
had  reason  to  be  thankful  for  that  decision. 

The  morning  was  now  so  near  that  the  highway  was 
no  longer  safe,  and  he  had  resolved  to  gain  the  foothills, 
when  he  became  aware  of  a  small  group  of  buildings.  The 
principal  one,  he  observed,  was  a  small  tambo  for  herdsmen. 
They  passed  it  cautiously,  and  were  again  in  the  open, 
unconscious  of  having  been  seen  by  an  early  riser.  The 
man,  a  Spaniard,  peered  through  the  darkness  at  their 
shadowy  forms,  stood  listening  for  a  moment,  then  stepped 
after  them  on  tiptoe.  Shortly  he  paused  and  hearkened 
again.  The  sound  of  their  steps  ceased  as  they  left  the 
roadway,  and  with  a  grunt  and  grin  he  returned  to  the 
tambo. 

Here  several  comrades  were  moving  about,  and  he  told 
his  tale,  remarking  that  the  pair  had  left  the  road  for  the 
fields.  His  account  brought  slight  comment,  and  he 
dropped  the  matter  until,  later  in  the  morning,  he  found  an 
audience  with  a  pronounced  interest  in  his  observations, 
the  significance  of  which  his  absence  from  Caxamalca  for 
a  few  days  had  made  him  unable  to  measure.  He  was  in 
formed  by  the  first  search  party  met  coming  from  the 
town,  and  the  squad  left  him  at  a  gallop. 

By  the  first  gray  of  daybreak  the  fugitives  had 
gained  the  crest  of  a  range  of  foothills.  The  ridge 
stretched  away  to  the  south  with  many  a  rise  and  dip, 
finally  dropping  into  a  distant  valley.  In  front,  almost  at 
their  feet,  but  with  two  or  three  smaller  ranges  between, 
lay  the  plain  of  Caxamalca,  half  veiled  by  the  morning 


igo  THE    CRIMSON    CONQUEST 

mist  and  nearly  a  thousand  feet  below.  Just  over  the  far 
thest  of  the  foothills  they  could  descry  the  road  with  its 
fringe  of  trees,  and  the  group  of  flat-looking  buildings  of 
the  iatnbo.  Nearer  was  a  cottage  and  garden,  close  to  their 
path  into  the  hills,  but  which  they  had  not  seen.  To  the 
west  was  a  ridge  higher  than  theirs,  backed  by  the  gray 
silhouette  of  the  Cordillera.  They  saw  in  the  fair  valley 
nothing  of  hostility,  to  be  revealed  perhaps  at  any  moment, 
and  strained  their  eyes  to  the  northward  for  signs  of  pur 
suit.  The  only  life,  however,  was  in  a  few  specks  of  figures 
moving  about  the  tambo,  the  cottager  already  at  work  in 
his  garden,  and  a  solitary  wayfarer  on  the  road  to 
Caxamalca. 

The  cavalier  turned  away  satisfied  from  his  scrutiny, 
and  spread  his  cloak  at  the  foot  of  an  outcropping  rock. 
Soon  they  were  busy  with  a  frugal  breakfast,  Cristoval 
eating  sparingly,  talking  little,  and  keeping  a  vigilant  eye 
on  the  valley.  Rava,  too  weary  to  talk,  was  quite  ready  to 
stretch  herself  upon  his  cloak  under  the  sheltering  ledge. 
He  wrapped  her  well  in  its  folds,  and  had  hardly  turned 
away  before  she  was  sleeping. 

How  long  she  slept  she  could  not  have  said,  but  it 
seemed  only  a  moment  before  she  was  roused  by  Cristo- 
val's  touch.  She  looked  up  with  bewildered  eyes. 
"What  is  it,  Viracocha  Cristoval?  Oh,  where  am  I?  I 
dreamed  —  but,  are  we  pursued?  "  Terrified  by  his  expres 
sion,  her  voice  sank  into  a  whisper. 

"  We  must  go,"  he  replied,  giving  her  his  hand.  She 
rose  painfully,  and  he  drew  her  back  from  the  crest  of  the 
hill.  A  misty  rain  was  falling,  obscuring  all  but  the  fields 
immediately  below.  As  she  looked,  she  gasped  and 
clutched  his  arm.  Towering  before  her,  seemingly  but  a 
few  yards  away,  was  a  white,  curling  column  of  smoke, 
writhing  heavily  as  it  rose,  and  drifting  off  down  the 
valley. 


FUGITIVES    IN   THE   WILDERNESS       191 

"  Oh,  what  is  that,  Viracocha?  "  she  cried,  cowering  at 
his  side.  "  What  is  it  —  what  is  it?  " 

"  Nothing  to  fear,"  said  Cristoval,  drawing  her  farther 
away.  "  The  cottage  hath  been  fired.  They  have  found 
our  trail,  Heaven  only  knoweth  how ! " 

Cristoval  threw  her  cloak  around  her,  secured  his  own, 
and  hurried  her  away.  The  thatch  of  the  cottage  was 
blazing  fiercely.  Outside  of  the  garden  wall  stood  a  group 
of  horses,  and  trotting  in  the  direction  of  the  hills,  a  squad 
of  three  troopers,  one  of  them  in  the  lead,  bending  over  his 
saddle-bow  in  scrutiny  of  the  ground. 

Cristoval  had  seen  the  cavalcade  nearly  an  hour  be 
fore  ;  saw  them  halt  at  the  tambo,  leave  the  road,  gallop  to 
the  cottage,  and  surround  it.  Not  long  afterward  it  burst 
into  flames,  and  he  had  little  doubt  that  the  unfortunate 
native,  and  perhaps  his  family,  were  being  put  to  torture. 
He  watched  until  the  three  troopers  left  the  others  and 
started  toward  the  hills.  Then  he  had  awakened  Rava. 

As  they  left  the  spot  she  was  weeping  and  frantically 
wringing  her  hands.  "  Oh,  Viracocha  Cristoval,"  she 
sobbed ;  "  are  they  burning  and  killing  because  of  our 
flight  ?  Let  me  go  back !  Oh,  let  me  go  back !  My  return 
may  stay  their  cruelty." 

"  No,  no !  "  he  replied,  quickly.  "  They  are  not  killing, 
and  now  that  they  have  found  our  traces  they  will  probably 
burn  no  more.  Your  return  would  not  help,  Nusta  Rava. 
Compose  yourself,  I  pray  you." 

"  Ah,  my  poor  people !  "  she  wailed.  "  My  unhappy 
country!  The  Sun  hath  indeed  turned  away  his  face! 
Ah  me,  ah  me !  " 

Cristoval  crossed  himself  at  the  mention  of  her  pagan 
deity,  and  whispered  a  prayer  for  her  soul.  She  turned  to 
him  earnestly. 

"  Viracocha,  we  will  not  seek  aid  until  beyond  the 
reach  of  those  cruel  men.  We  must  endanger  none  of  my 


i92  THE    CRIMSON    CONQUEST 

father's  children.  We  will  flee  alone  —  die  alone,  if 
need  be." 

Cristoval  nodded  assent,  but  thought  of  Pedro's  pouch, 
which  was  none  too  heavy.  How  to  replenish  it  without 
the  help  of  men  would  be  a  question.  "  By  the  saints !  " 
he  thought ;  "  this  lady's  escape  is  attended  by  difficul 
ties,  and  now  she  setteth  up  problems  of  generalship  that 
are  unfamiliar.  Ah,  well,  we  '11  see  what  can  be  done." 
Then  he  said  aloud,  "  We  will  consider  it  later,  Nusta  Rava. 
For  the  present,  it  is  better  not  to  talk,  for  breath  may 
grow  precious  later  on." 

They  pressed  forward.  The  cottage  was  smouldering 
now,  and  left  by  the  soldiery,  who  had  apparently  gone 
into  the  lower  hills,  for  none  was  in  sight.  The  top  of  the 
ridge  was  fairly  smooth,  though  occasionally  strewn  with 
rock;  but  toward  midday  it  developed  into  a  succession 
of  deep  gullies,  and  their  progress  became  labored,  with 
halts  of  growing  frequency.  Before  the  afternoon  was 
half  gone  Rava  showed  serious  exhaustion,  and  they 
stopped  in  a  thicket.  Cristoval  again  spread  his  cloak,  and 
once  more  she  slept.  In  an  hour  he  regretfully  awakened 
her,  and  they  took  up  their  march.  The  sky  was  clearing, 
and  presently  Cristoval  saw  the  expected.  Far  to  the  east 
ward,  creeping  over  the  first  foothills,  was  a  small,  dark  col 
umn  of  horsemen,  sparkling  here  and  there  as  the  afternoon 
sun  struck  upon  burnished  helm  and  corselet,  and  deploy 
ing  at  last  into  a  widely-extended  line.  Another  column 
was  moving  to  the  southward  along  the  highway,  almost 
imperceptibly,  as  it  appeared  to  Rava,  but  in  reality  at 
a  gallop,  as  Cristoval  knew.  He  watched  for  a  time 
without  comment,  then  led  on.  When  darkness  fell  they 
rested  again;  then  up  with  the  rising  moon  and  wearily 
onward. 

The  night  was  far  spent  when  they  were  brought  to  a 
halt  at  the  verge  of  a  cliff,  and  looked  into  a  valley  half  a 


FUGITIVES    IN    THE    WILDERNESS       193 

league  in  breadth,  roughly  semicircular,  and  opening  to 
the  east.  Its  floor  held  many  a  hillock  and  hollow,  and  here 
and  there  the  white  walls  of  a  cottage  glimmered  in  the 
moonlight.  At  the  foot  of  the  declivity  flowed  a  stream, 
showing  silvery  where  it  rippled  past  a  shoal,  black  in  the 
quiet  pools,  finally  losing  itself  in  the  distant  plain  to  which 
the  vale  descended.  To  the  west  the  hills  closed  in  grad 
ually,  forming  the  head  of  the  amphitheatre  and  softening 
into  the  semiluminous  mist  which  filled  a  great  rift  in  the 
wall  of  the  Cordillera  looming  beyond.  Through  this 
dim  moonlit  canyon  the  stream  found  its  way  into  the 
valley  from  the  fastnesses  of  its  source. 

The  dale  was  one  of  those  rare  spots  of  the  arid  Sierra 
made  fertile  by  an  ample  supply  of  water,  and  every  avail 
able  foot,  as  Cristoval  could  see,  was  under  cultivation. 
From  the  edge  of  the  cliff  the  long  sinuous  lines  of  terraces 
on  the  opposite  hills  were  distinctly  visible  in  the  moon 
light,  following  the  contour  of  the  valley-wall  far  to  the 
east  and  west. 

They  stood  for  several  minutes,  Rava  gazing  longingly 
upon  the  peaceful  cottages  of  her  people,  their  shelter  so 
near,  yet  denied.  Cristoval,  strongly  tempted  to  take  the 
risk  of  entrusting  themselves  to  some  of  the  denizens,  was 
about  to  make  the  suggestion  when  both  were  startled  by 
the  neighing  of  a  horse.  It  came,  apparently,  from  a  point 
just  below,  and  was  answered  immediately  by  another, 
more  remote.  Rava  clutched  his  arm  with  a  quick  catching 
of  breath. 

"Santa  Maria!"  interjected  he,  in  an  undertone.  "  So 
they  are  here  before  us ! "  His  faint  hope  of  aid  was 
dashed.  While  Rava  clung,  trembling,  to  his  arm,  he  de 
bated.  The  plain  was  occupied.  To  cross  it  in  this  bril 
liant  moonlight  would  be  fatal.  Even  the  hills  were  no 
longer  safe;  parties  would  be  scouring  them  with  the  ear 
liest  dawn,  and  in  their  last  march  darkness  had  made  it 

13 


194  THE    CRIMSON    CONQUEST 

impossible  not  to  leave  traces.  Cristoval  glanced  at  the 
dark  eyes  turned  anxiously  to  his. 

"  There  is  but  one  thing  left  for  us  to  do,  Nusta  Rava. 
We  must  trust  ourselves  to  yonder  mountains." 

"  Oh,  my  good  friend,"  she  whispered,  in  terror ; 
"  in  those  mountains  we  are  lost !  We  shall  starve  — 
go  mad!  They  are  most  dreadful.  You  know  not, 
Viracocha." 

"  Less  to  be  dreaded  than  the  wolves  around  us,"  he 
replied,  sombrely.  "  There  is  naught  else.  We  can  hide 
there  until  the  hunt  is  given  over.  How  is  your  strength? 
Are  you  very  tired?  " 

"  I  can  go,"  she  said,  with  a  brave  effort  to  conceal  the 
tremor  in  her  voice. 

"  Then  come.  If  need  be,  I  can  carry  you ;  but  we 
must  make  speed." 

They  followed  the  encircling  hills,  and  descried  pres 
ently  the  smouldering  fire  of  a  bivouac,  far  out  in  the 
valley.  An  hour  late,  nearing  the  mouth  of  the  canyon, 
they  found  new  danger.  It  was  picketed.  Fortunately 
they  were  warned  by  the  live  embers  of  the  campfire  left 
by  an  indiscretion  for  which  Cristoval  returned  fervent 
thanks,  and  they  passed  by  a  detour  well  up  the  mountain 
side.  Safely  beyond,  they  crept  down  to  the  bank  of  the 
torrent  foaming  noisily  through  the  gulch,  and  while  Rava 
waited  Cristoval  went  on  his  knees  in  search  of  the  trail 
which  he  knew  instinctively  would  be  there.  He  found  it 
presently,  a  mere  trace  left  by  herdsmen  in  years  of  going 
and  coming  to  and  from  the  mountain  pastures,  and  to  be 
followed  with  difficulty  in  the  shadow  of  the  canyon.  It  was 
rough,  and  grew  rougher  as  they  proceeded,  but  in  its 
rockiness  lay  safety,  for  it  held  no  tell-tale  tracks.  They 
stumbled  on  in  fevered  haste,  Rava  heedless  of  weariness 
and  the  bruising  stones  alike.  Cristoval  gave  what  aid  he 
could,  supporting  her  weight  when  possible,  guiding  her 


FUGITIVES    IN   THE   WILDERNESS       195 

steps  among  the  bowlders,  and  she  struggled  on  without 
complaint. 

Momentarily  the  stream  grew  wilder,  plunging  and 
tearing  over  the  rocks  and  filling  the  canyon  with  its  roar. 
Now  they  blundered  along  its  brink,  now  toiled  up  a  steep 
ascent  to  pass  a  spur,  then  down,  slipping,  floundering,  and 
lacerating  their  hands  on  the  thorny  bushes  clutched  to 
save  a  fatal  pitch  headlong  into  the  howling  waters  below. 
The  pace  could  not  endure.  Again  and  again  Rava  fell, 
to  be  raised  gently  by  the  cavalier  and  carried  in  his  arms 
until  he  staggered,  —  but  on  and  on,  though  he  groaned  at 
the  torture  she  endured  at  every  step. 

Morning  came,  and  revealed  such  a  scene  of  savage 
grandeur  as  he  had  never  before  beheld.  They  were  well 
within  the  mountains.  On  either  hand  they  rose  in  ragged 
slope  or  dizzy  precipice,  buttressed,  pinnacled,  piled  crag 
upon  crag  until  their  heights  pierced  the  heavens.  In  front 
loomed  greater  steeps,  with  gloomy  malevolence  in  every 
seam  and  scar.  Around  them,  a  madness  of  shattered 
rock,  strewn  and  riven  as  if  hurled  down  by  an  angry  god. 
Over  these  raged  and  thundered  the  stream,  here  a  white, 
leaping  cataract,  there  a  black,  whirling  pool,  and  sinister 
everywhere. 

They  labored  onward,  in  their  stupendous  surround 
ings  mere  pygmies  on  a  threadlike  trail,  bending  beneath 
exhaustion  as  if  crushed  by  the  enmity  of  the  wilderness. 
Often,  turning  to  lift  the  half-fainting  girl,  Cristoval  found 
the  tears  streaming  over  her  pallid  cheeks,  and  at  last  he 
saw  her  sandals  were  stained  with  blood.  In  his  arms  she 
clung  in  the  complete  abandonment  of  weariness,  and  when 
he  was  compelled  to  lower  her  to  her  feet  she  reeled,  too 
benumbed  to  follow.  But  he  pressed  forward,  relentless 
under  the  driving  necessity,  though  with  aching  heart  for 
every  evidence  of  her  suffering.  No  halt  possible  now, 
for  day  had  come,  and  he  knew  they  would  be  followed. 


ig6  THE    CRIMSON    CONQUEST 

At  the  first  light  he  scrutinized  the  trail  in  the  hope  of 
finding  marks  of  horses'  hoofs  in  indication  that  the  canyon 
had  been  explored  the  day  before.  The  signs  were  absent, 
and  he  knew  the  hunt  would  soon  be  upon  them.  From 
time  to  time  he  left  Rava  to  rest  while  he  clambered  up  the 
mountain-side  for  a  cautious  look  back  down  the  valley,  re 
turning  to  rouse  and  gently  urge  her  forward.  Frequently 
she  pleaded,  begging  to  be  left  to  die;  but  his  face  was 
stern,  and  his  words,  though  kindly,  grew  peremptory  in 
answer  to  her  tears.  More  often  he  took  her  in  his  arms  and 
strode  on  without  a  word. 

Thus  through  hours  which  seemed  to  Rava  to  be  life 
long  ;  over  a  path  of  eternal  length ;  driven  by  a  being  who 
at  one  moment  was  a  monster  of  cruelty,  urging  her  on  to 
endless  torture,  at  the  next,  a  spirit  of  benevolence,  on 
whose  shoulder  she  wept  her  anguish.  And  the  poor  cava 
lier,  wrung  by  every  fresh  pang  he  forced  her  to  undergo, 
cruciated  even  by  his  conscience  for  bringing  such  torment 
upon  her,  could  only  toil  onward,  reeling  with  fatigue  and 
harrowed  by  uncertainty  while  he  muttered  incoherencies 
vainly  meant  to  cheer. 

At  last,  having  left  her  beside  the  path,  a  mere  bedrag 
gled,  almost  inanimate  heap,  he  returned  from  a  recon 
naissance  in  mad  haste. 

"  Quick !  "  he  whispered,  as  he  bent  to  raise  her  from 
the  ground.  "  Up  —  up !  They  are  upon  us !  We  must 
hide  —  God  knoweth  where !  " 

His  urgency  gave  her  life,  and  she  staggered  to  her 
feet,  clinging  to  him  and  looking  back  in  terror.  A  few 
paces  forward,  her  pain  forgotten;  then  down  toward  the 
stream,  from  rock  to  rock,  to  a  bowlder  behind  which  they 
crouched  at  the  edge  of  a  pool.  He  pressed  her  down  and 
knelt,  his  hand  one  of  iron  upon  her  arm. 

It  seemed  an  hour  before  her  ears  caught  the  sound  of 
hoofs,  and  she  closed  her  eyes.  They  neared  slowly,  until 


FUGITIVES    IN   THE   WILDERNESS       197 

she  heard  the  subdued  voices  of  the  riders.  They  halted  a 
moment,  scanning  the  mountain-sides,  and  moved  on. 
They  were  opposite  the  bowlder,  so  close  that  she  could 
hear  the  creaking  saddles ;  an  age  in  passing ;  finally  past. 
Cristoval  relaxed  his  grip  upon  her  arm,  and  she  heard  his 
deep-drawn  breath.  He  half  arose  and  looked  warily  after 
them.  A  gallant  party,  surely,  with  the  sunlight  glancing 
from  their  steel,  but  Cristoval  whispered  a  fervent  curse 
upon  them  as  they  wound  along  the  trail  —  upon  each  by 
name,  for  they  were  near  enough  for  easy  recognition. 
They  rode  slowly,  searching  the  sides  of  the  defile  with 
careful  scrutiny ;  halted  at  a  point  a  hundred  yards  up  the 
canyon,  and  dismounted  to  lead  their  horses,  over  the  nar 
row  path  where  an  outcropping  ledge  crowded  toward  a 
dangerous  slope,  falling  away  abruptly  to  the  stream  twenty 
feet  below.  Beyond  this  they  mounted  again  and  shortly 
disappeared  beyond  a  jutting  crag. 

Cristoval  turned  to  Rava.  She  was  crouched  with 
half-closed  eyes,  her  hands  tight-pressed  upon  her  bosom. 
Startled  by  her  pallor  and  the  drawn  lines  about  her  mouth, 
he  hastily  opened  the  pouch  and  drew  forth  the  flask  of 
chicha.  "  Here !  "  he  whispered,  unstopping  it  and  pressing 
it  to  her  lips.  "  Swallow  this.  It  will  help  thy  strength. 
They  have  gone.  —  Rava !  Dost  hear?  Swallow !  " 

She  obeyed  mechanically.  He  bathed  her  forehead 
with  the  icy  water,  and  presently  she  revived. 

"  Ah!  Gracias  a  Dios!  "  he  murmured,  as  she  opened 
her  eyes.  "  Thou  'rt  better?  Another  sip,  and  thou  'It  be 
thyself.  They  have  gone,  but  we  must  find  better  shelter 
before  they  return.  —  Poor  little  one,  thou  'rt  worn  to  death 
—  and,  Madre  I  —  thy  feet !  Oh,  miserere  Domine  I " 

He  looked  cautiously  about.  Beyond  was  a  larger 
bowlder,  rising  almost  from  the  water's  edge,  a  few  small 
bushes  growing  near.  It  would  afford  better  hiding  —  the 
only  one  as  far  as  he  could  see.  He  bore  her  thither. 


ig8  THE    CRIMSON    CONQUEST 

Seating  her  against  the  rock  with  his  folded  cloak  for 
cushion,  he  hastened  to  unlace  her  sandals  and  bathe  and 
bandage  her  cuts.  Her  head  was  drooping,  and  he  quickly 
cleared  the  narrow  strip  of  sand,  and  eased  her  upon  it. 
She  was  sleeping  heavily  almost  before  he  had  drawn 
her  cloak  around  her. 

Cristoval  seated  himself  to  await  the  return  of  the  cav 
alcade,  lines  of  anxiety  on  his  face  as  he  looked  upon  the 
motionless  form,  wan  cheeks,  and  darkened  eyelids,  and 
pondered  the  gloomy  prospects.  She  was  at  the  limit  of 
her  strength.  "  Ah,  miserere  nobis,  Domfnel  " 

It  was  late  afternoon  when  he  was  roused  by  sounds 
of  the  returning  horsemen.  He  rose  to  his  knees,  silently 
unsheathing  his  sword.  The  movement  awakened  Rava, 
and  he  raised  a  warning  hand.  He  heard  them  halt  to 
dismount,  and  soon  they  were  passing,  riding  carelessly, 
the  search  of  the  canyon  evidently  given  over.  He  looked 
furtively  out  as  they  straggled  by. 

"  Curses,  a  thousand  curses  upon  you,  Gutiero,  De 
Vera,  Almar,  Cueva  —  but  wait !  One  is  wanting !  There 
were  nine,  or  I  miscounted.  Ah !  —  De  Valera !  " 

At  that  moment  he  heard  a  shout,  faint  and  distant, 
up  the  canyon,  and  saw  Cueva  draw  rein.  "  Shall  we  wait 
for  him?  "  Cristoval  heard  him  ask. 

"  No ! "  replied  one,  with  an  oath.  "  Let  him  follow 
as  he  can.  He  's  always  behind,  the  pig,  and  we  Ve  wasted 
time  enough  for  his  lagging.  He'll  not  wander  far  off 
this  highway,  I  '11  venture  a  peso.  Give  him  an  answer, 
then  come." 

"  Give  him  answer  with  thine  own  wind,  if  thou  hast 
wind  to  spare,  I  '11  not,"  retorted  the  other,  and  gave  spur. 
They  moved  on.  Another  distant  hallo,  and  Cristoval's 
eyes  suddenly  fired.  He  glanced  at  Rava,  and  his  resolu 
tion  formed.  There  was  one  chance,  and  only  one,  of 
saving  her.  She  could  never  survive  another  day  of 


FUGITIVES    IN   THE   WILDERNESS       199 

torture.  Maimed  and  exhausted,  a  league  farther  would 
be  beyond  her  powers.  They  must  have  a  horse. 

Cristoval  unbuckled  his  belt.  His  lips  were  com 
pressed,  and  there  was  a  light  in  his  eyes  which  Rava  had 
never  seen.  Laying  down  belt  and  scabbard,  he  picked 
up  his  naked  blade,  gave  it  quick  scrutiny,  and  looked  after 
the  retreating  cavalcade.  It  moved  slowly,  and  it  was 
long  before  he  turned  from  scowling  down  the  valley. 
From  the  other  direction  came  shouts,  growing  more  dis 
tinct.  He  looked  again  at  Rava,  who  had  risen  upon  her 
elbow  and  was  watching  his  eyes  in  alarm. 

"  Make  no  sound !  "  he  whispered,  gently  touched  her 
hand,  and  was  gone. 

A  rapid  climb  brought  him  to  the  trail.  He  glanced 
once  more  down  the  canyon.  The  horsemen  had  disap 
peared  beyond  a  turn,  and  he  ran  to  the  abutting  rock 
where  they  had  dismounted.  Here  he  stepped  off  the  path, 
and  placed  himself  against  the  rock.  The  shouts  from  the 
upper  valley  were  near  enough  now  to  betray  De  Valera's 
anxiety.  Minutes  passed,  then  came  the  ring  of  the  horse's 
hoofs.  They  ceased,  and  a  grunt  close  by  told  him  the 
laggard  trooper  had  dismounted.  De  Valera  emitted  an 
other  bellowing  wail,  and  Cristoval  heard  his  puffing 
approach. 

"  Come  along,  thou  lazy  —  ambling  —  lop-eared  — 
bedeviled  —  misbegotten  —  and  wholly  damned  son  —  of 
a  cow !  "  De  Valera  was  addressing  his  languid  steed. 

Cristoval  grinned  and  laid  aside  his  sword.  "  Bah ! 
Why  kill  the  wretch?  "  he  thought,  but  loosed  his  dagger 
and  gathered  for  a  spring,  his  alert  eyes  upon  the  trail. 
De  Valera  appeared,  lance  over  his  shoulder,  his  face  pur 
ple  with  irritation  and  shouting,  tugging  his  reluctant 
horse.  Cristoval  was  upon  him  like  an  avalanche. 

"  Whoof !  "  blurted  De  Valera,  with  sudden  aspiration 
as  he  received  the  charge.  Cristoval  grappled,  and  he 


200  THE   CRIMSON    CONQUEST 

dropped  his  lance,  slipped,  clutched  the  neck  of  his  assail 
ant's  mail,  and  both  rolled  down  the  face  of  the  rock.  The 
horse  reared  and  turned,  lost  his  footing  and  regained  it, 
and  tore  back  up  the  canyon  at  a  run. 

Rava  heard  the  brief  struggle  with  palpitating  heart: 
the  crash  of  the  fall  of  the  armored  man,  the  mad  gallop 
of  the  horse,  and  then  only  the  roaring  of  the  torrent.  She 
rose  from  her  knees.  There  was  no  sign  of  Cristoval  or 
his  adversary,  and  only  distant  hoof-beats  to  vary  the 
monotonous  din  of  the  stream.  She  leaned  against  the 
rock,  weak  and  shaking.  For  a  moment  she  stood  with 
straining  ears.  The  gallop  had  died  away,  and  she  was 
alone.  Minute  after  minute  fled,  and  at  last  she  could  en 
dure  no  longer.  Unheeding  the  pain  of  every  step,  she  sped 
to  the  trail.  No  slightest  evidence  of  life.  She  ran  a  few 
steps  down  the  canyon,  halted  trembling,  and  turned  to  the 
jutting  rock.  Here  she  stopped  and  looked  down,  trans 
fixed.  There  lay  a  man  in  armor,  inanimate;  beside  him 
the  form  of  Cristoval,  face  upward  and  marred  by  a  stream 
of  blood  from  his  forehead.  She  tottered,  and  parted  her 
lips  to  scream,  but  her  voice  failed.  How  she  descended 
from  the  path  she  never  knew;  but  in  a  moment  she  was 
kneeling  with  his  head  in  her  lap,  calling  his  name  in  agony, 
and  wiping  away  the  crimson  stream.  She  thought  of 
the  water,  and  in  a  second  was  carrying  it  in  her  hands 
and  bathing  his  face,  praying,  praying  for  a  sign  of  anima 
tion.  Tears  blinded  her  while  she  worked,  hurrying  to  and 
from  the  edge  of  the  torrent,  dashing  the  too  meagre  hand- 
fuls  into  the  still  face,  chafing  his  wrists,  beating  the  nerve 
less  hands,  sobbing  and  moaning  his  name.  He  lay  without 
a  quiver.  She  thought  she  looked  upon  death,  and  her  fear 
became  wild,  frenzied  despair.  She  cast  a  shuddering  look 
of  horror  at  the  grim  desolation  surrounding  her,  and  threw 
herself  upon  him,  her  hands  at  his  throat,  on  his  cheeks,  in 
his  hair,  wailing  his  name  in  the  extremity  of  mortal  anguish. 


FUGITIVES    IN   THE  WILDERNESS       201 

He  sighed.  Ah,  merciful  Sun !  —  most  beneficent  Inti ! 
She  stifled  her  sobs  and  brushed  away  her  tears  that  she 
might  see.  His  eyelids  trembled,  and  now  a  moan,  most 
faint,  barely  audible,  but  —  he  lived!  More  water,  and 
more,  and  when  she  came  again  his  eyes  were  open,  blankly 
at  the  sky  at  first,  then  at  her.  She  wept  for  joy,  pressing 
his  hands  to  her  bosom,  while  he  regarded  her  vaguely, 
striving  to  arrange  his  muddled  thoughts. 

"  Courage !  "  murmured  Cristoval,  and  closed  his  eyes 
again,  to  be  startled  to  his  senses  by  a  shriek  from  the  girl. 
De  Valera  had  moved,  and  was  feebly  groaning.  Cristoval 
turned  his  head  at  the  sound,  and  the  sight  of  his  fallen 
enemy  aroused  him. 

"  Cielo!"  he  gasped.  "  He  had  slipped  my  mind."  He 
crawled  to  the  trooper,  found  his  dagger,  and  tossed  it  out 
of  reach.  De  Valera  moved  again,  but  Cristoval  rose  un 
steadily  and  seated  himself  upon  his  adversary's  chest. 
"Water,  cariial"  he  whispered,  and  bowed  his  reeling 
head  upon  his  hands.  Rava  brought  her  hands  full  and 
dashed  it  into  his  face.  "Ah!  Bueno!"  he  muttered,  and 
looked  down  upon  De  Valera.  The  visor  of  the  helmet  was 
thrown  back,  and  the  prostrate  soldier  was  staring  up  at 
him.  Cristoval  glowered,  rubbing  an  aching  head,  and  the 
two  Spaniards  regarded  one  another  for  a  time  in  silence, 
neither  in  full  possession  of  his  faculties.  At  last  De  Valera 
moaned  faintly,  "  Mercy,  Cristoval !  " 

Cristoval  made  no  reply,  scowling  blackly  at  the  pallid 
face  and  wiping  away  the  blood  which  still  trickled  into 
his  own  eyes  from  the  gash  in  his  forehead. 

"  Mercy,  Cristoval !    Give  me  time  for  a  prayer." 

The  words  brought  Cristoval  more  fully  to  conscious 
ness,  and  he  replied,  angrily :  "  Time  for  a  prayer !  Time 
for  a  prayer !  What  dost  think?  —  that  I  will  murder  thee, 
lying  on  thy  back  and  hands  down?  If  thou  hast  the 
thought,  dismiss  it,  or  I  '11  have  it  out  of  thee  roughly.'* 


202  THE    CRIMSON    CONQUEST 

The  soldier  faltered  weakly:  "What!  Thou  wilt 
spare  me,  good  Cristoval?  Oh,  blessed  Virgin!  "  and  tears 
of  gratitude  filled  his  eyes.  "  But  I  might  have  known 
it  of  thee,  Cristoval." 

"  Ah !  "  replied  Cristoval,  scornfully.  "  But  see  thou 
liest  still,  lest  I  lose  the  whim."  He  rubbed  his  head  again, 
struggling  to  order  his  thoughts.  De  Valera  lay  motion 
less,  and  at  length  Cristoval  said  sternly :  — 

"  Now  attend,  thou  unfortunate  —  I  am  going  to  plun 
der  thee.  I  've  need  of  thy  horse,  which  is  up  yonder  — 
and  of  thy  harness.  Thou  'It  be  wise  to  make  no  hindrance. 
Dost  comprehend?  Bienl  Then  sit  up  whilst  I  unhelm 
thee.  Ware,  now !  —  no  sudden  movement !  " 

Cristoval  rose  to  his  feet,  still  giddy,  and  set  to  work, 
De  Valera  submitting  quietly,  while  Rava  looked  on  in 
wonder. 

"  Allil  "  quoth  Cristoval,  as  he  tossed  the  last  piece 
upon  the  heap  of  armor.  "  Now,  Nusta  Rava,  thy  girdle, 
I  pray  thee,  to  bind  him.  No  groaning,  Senor!  It  doth 
misbecome  thee.  Now,  thy  hands  behind  thy  back.  So! 
Now  for  thy  feet.  —  Good !  Hast  a  kerchief?  Then  we  '11 
have  a  choke-pear.  —  Silence !  Dost  think  I  '11  have  thee 
waking  mournful  echoes  through  the  night?  Thou  hast 
shouted  more  than  is  good  for  thee  already.  And  next, 
whilst  I  make  the  choke-pear  I  '11  question  thee  —  and  see 
thou  makest  cheerful  response,  or —  First,  hast  cherished 
against  me  any  peculiar  animosity?  I  mean  before  this 
solemn  afternoon." 

"  No,  good  Cristoval,"  replied  De  Valera,  with  candor. 

"Then  why  partaking  this  hunting  holiday?"  de 
manded  Cristoval,  eying  him  severely. 

"The  reward,  amigo-  A  thousand  castettanos  to  a 
poor  man  —  " 

"  A  thousand !  "  exclaimed  Cristoval,  with  contempt. 
"  Is  that  all  Pizarro  hath  offered?  By  the  saints,  he  '11 


FUGITIVES    IN   THE   WILDERNESS       203 

double  it  before  I  have  done !  Well,  bastante!  Thou  didst 
seek  reward !  Bienl  But  now  thou  'rt  unhorsed  thou  canst 
hope  for  reward  no  longer  and  canst  answer  freely.  How 
many  are  in  pursuit?" 

"  Nearly  all  have  been,  saving  Juan  and  Gonzalo 
Pizarro,  De  Soto,  Jose,  and  a  few  more.  —  But  hold,  Cris- 
toval,  the  Canares  are  out  and  after  thee.  I  give  thee 
warning." 

Cristoval  drew  a  long  breath,  his  face  darkened,  and 
he  stood  in  reflection.  He  threw  down  the  choke-pear  with 
which  he  had  purposed  gagging  his  captive.  "  We  '11  not 
trouble  thee  with  it.  Thy  news  is  not  welcome,  Valera,  but 
thy  warning  is.  We  will  go,  Nusta  Rava." 

"  First,  I  will  attend  to  your  wound,"  she  said,  and 
tearing  a  strip  from  her  robe,  soon  had  it  bandaged.  In 
a  few  minutes  Cristoval  was  in  his  enemy's  armor,  and  tak 
ing  up  the  lance  he  said :  "  Adios,  Valera !  Thy  comrades 
will  find  .thee  in  the  morning."  He  assisted  Rava  to  the 
trail,  secured  his  sword  and  belt,  and  once  more  they  were 
on  their  way,  leaving  De  Valera  leaning  mournfully  against 
a  rock,  a  prey  to  varied  fears. 

A  mile  up  the  canyon  Cristoval  captured  the  horse,  and 
found  De  Valera's  mace  and  buckler  hanging  on  the  saddle. 
The  first  care  was  to  examine  the  contents  of  the  saddle 
bags. 

"  Ah ! "  exclaimed  the  cavalier,  with  satisfaction. 
'  Praise  Heaven,  they  are  well  stocked.  Here  is  charqui, 
P^read,  and  parched  maize,  and  grain  for  our  steed  in  the 
ether  —  with  discretion,  some  days'  supply.  But  I  was 
more  sure  of  De  Valera's  providence  than  of  his  honesty. 
Now,  we  're  equipped,  Nusta  Rava,  and  now  we  '11  mount." 

It  was  a  trial  of  her  courage,  but  soon  she  was  seated 
upon  the  horse's  croup,  holding  her  place  with  the  aid  of 
the  cavalier's  belt. 


CHAPTER  XVIII 
The  Vale  of  Xilcala 

IN  Rava's  memory,  afterward,  the  toil,  suffering,  and 
peril  of  the  succeeding  days  remained  as  fragments 
of  an  anguished  dream.  There  were  dim  recollections 

of  unmeasured  hours  of  weariness,  of  journeying  up 
ward  through  huge  defiles,  along  the  verge  of  precipices, 
and  out  upon  barren  stretches  of  tableland  which  seemed, 
in  their  desolation,  the  abode  of  Despair  and  Death:  the 
moaning  of  the  wind,  their  voices.  Here  was  infinite  lone 
liness,  the  dreary  solitude  of  a  world  forgotten  of  God. 
Over  these  lofty  wastes,  gasping  and  dizzy  in  the  rarified 
air,  their  brains  pierced  by  the  fierce  rays  of  a  sun  which 
gave  no  warmth,  their  lips  split  and  bleeding,  their  faces 
raw  and  smarting  in  the  eager  wind,  they  labored  on. 
Cristoval,  silent,  walked  and  led,  his  eyes  rarely  lifted  from 
the  faint  trail  left  by  herdsmen  and  their  flocks  of  llamas. 
This  once  lost,  there  would  be  slight  hope.  Followed,  it 
might  lead  to  safety. 

But  through  all  her  recollections  of  hunger,  exhaus 
tion,  and  torture,  was  that  of  the  dauntless  spirit  who 
shared  them  with  her,  ever  watchful,  ever  solicitous,  and  of 
unfailing  gentleness  in  the  most  desperate  hours.  A  mem 
ory  of  a  brave,  kindly  face,  growing  haggard  as  one  day 
of  struggle  followed  another,  but  with  never  a  sign  of 
failing  courage  or  resolution,  never  a  shadow  of  impatience 
at  her  plaints,  her  tears,  or  when  her  weakness  compelled 
the  loss  of  precious  time.  Often  she  had  been  delirious, 
or  in  a  half  stupor,  but  never  unconscious  of  his  presence 


THE   VALE   OF   XILCALA  205 

and  tender  guardianship.  She  had  a  memory,  too,  of  a 
tempest,  of  snow  and  deadly  cold,  when  they  had  sought 
shelter  among  the  drifts  of  a  gorge  and  he  had  held  her 
in  his  arms  through  the  night,  wrapped  in  his  cloak,  his 
armor  removed  that  she  might  have  his  warmth.  But  she 
only  half  remembered  the  long  battle  through  the  snow  of 
a  pass  to  which  Providence  had  led  their  steps  when  they 
had  finally  lost  the  trail. 

After  this,  a  descending  valley,  a  lonely  hut  at  last,  and 
she  came  to  her  senses  surrounded  by  the  warmth  and 
frugal  comforts  of  a  herdsmen's  lodge.  Here  Crist  oval 
learned  from  the  two  occupants  of  the  hut  that  a  village 
called  Xilcala  lay  within  three  days'  journey  through  the 
mountains.  The  younger  of  the  herders,  named  Mati, 
would  guide  them;  and  after  tarrying  for  some  days  until 
food  and  rest  should  fit  them  to  resume  their  way,  they 
set  out. 

In  the  late  afternoon  of  the  third  day  of  travel  from 
the  hut  they  were  descending  into  the  Vale  of  Xilcala. 
Since  morning  they  had  been  creeping  down  a  canyon  which 
broadened  at  last  at  its  junction  with  another,  and  their 
haven  lay  before  them.  A  turn  in  the  trail  brought  it  into 
sudden  view,  and  they  halted,  struck  by  a  scene  of  so  rare 
and  tranquil  beauty  that  even  Cristoval,  not  easily  im 
pressed,  muttered  an  exclamation.  Assisting  Rava  to  dis 
mount,  he  led  her  out  upon  an  overhanging  ledge.  Hun 
dreds  of  feet  below  spread  a  rolling  plain  surrounding  an 
alpine  lake  of  limpid  emerald  and  blue  which  gleamed  in 
its  setting  of  spring  verdure  like  some  fair  jewel.  From  the 
water  the  shores  gently  rose  to  the  encircling  mountains, 
traceried  with  walls  and  hedges,  and  sparkling  with  the 
silver  inlay  of  numberless  rivulets  and  miniature  canals. 
Far  up  the  slopes  of  the  sheltering  masses  of  the  Cordillera 
clung  cultivated  terraces,  the  andenes,  the  lines  of  their 
retaining  walls  sweeping  in  and  out  with  the  contour  of 


206  THE   CRIMSON    CONQUEST 

the  rugged  scarp  until  they  broke  at  a  distant  cleft  in  the 
rampart,  through  which  flowed  the  outlet  of  the  lake.  Half 
way  down  the  western  shore  was  the  village,  crowning 
a  rocky  promontory,  its  white  walls  reflected  on  the  placid 
water,  and  to  the  weary  eyes  of  the  refugees  hardly  more 
real  or  permanent,  in  its  quiet  beauty,  than  the  inverted  and 
blended  image  at  its  feet.  Nearer  were  scattered  cottages, 
a  villa  with  its  park,  and  shaded  lanes  and  groves  of  trees 
just  breaking  into  leafage  or  blossom. 

Over  all  was  an  atmosphere  of  peace  that  went  to  the 
heart  of  the  girl  standing  with  cheeks  pale  and  eyes 
darkened  by  the  sorrow,  hardship,  and  dangers  through 
which  she  had  come.  She  gazed  long  with  clasped  hands. 
At  length  in  a  whisper,  as  if  loath  to  break  the  silence 
which  like  the  evening  haze  brooded  over  the  tranquillity 
below,  she  said  to  Cristoval,  who  stood  leaning  upon  his 
lance  beside  her,  "  Ah,  my  friend,  is  it  not  beautiful?  Oh, 
Viracocha  Cristoval,  is  it  not  too  beautiful  to  be  real?" 

"  Why,  God  bless  thee,  child !  "  answered  the  cavalier, 
"  not  too  beautiful  to  be  real,  surely ;  but  fair  enough  for 
a  dream,  no  less !  and  welcome  as  't  is  alluring." 

"  Most  welcome !  Most  welcome !  "  she  exclaimed ; 
and  after  a  pause,  "  And  now  —  our  cares  and  dangers  are 
over." 

He  did  not  reply  at  once,  and  she  glanced  at  him  in 
quiringly.  "  Thy  cares  and  dangers  are  over,  Nusta  Rava," 
he  said.  "  I  pray  't  is  so." 

"  But,"  she  said,  with  concern,  "  I  said  ours,  Vira 
cocha.  Are  not  yours  as  well?" 

"No  doubt,  no  doubt!"  he  replied,  hastily.  "The 
most  immediate  of  them,  assuredly."  He  looked  away 
toward  the  distant  mountains,  as  if  unwilling  to  pursue  the 
subject.  She  studied  his  eyes  for  a  moment,  observing  their 
cloud,  and  said  gently,  "  The  most  immediate  of  them, 
but  not  all?  " 


THE   VALE    OF   XILCALA  207 

"  Oh,  belike  all !  —  But  shall  we  not  move  again?  We 
have  yet  some  distance,  and  thou  'rt  a-weary." 

"  Presently,"  she  answered,  with  decision ;  "  when 
you  have  told  me  what  you  reserve  in  your  thoughts.  Why 
may  not  your  care  and  danger  be  past,  as  well  as  mine?  " 

He  smiled  at  her  persistence.  "  Why,  Nusta  Rava, 
thou  dost  forget!  I  am  a  renegade  from  my  countrymen 

—  a  traitor  —  with  a  price  upon  my  head.    And  to  thine 
own  people,  what  can  I  be  but  one  of  a  band  of  plunderers 

—  an  enemy?  " 

"  Something  far  different,  Viracocha  Cristoval,"  she 
replied,  earnestly.  "  You  are  my  friend."  He  inclined  his 
head,  but  made  no  reply,  and  Rava  continued :  "  You  have 
been  my  preserver ;  and  that  meaneth,  doth  it  not,  that  you 
are  a  friend  of  Tavantinsuyu?  Surely,  you  cannot  think 
we  are  without  gratitude!  Not  one  of  my  people  —  not 
one !  but  will  share  mine  with  me." 

"  Nay ! "  replied  Cristoval,  gravely,  "  it  is  not  that  I 
would  doubt  their  generosity,  Nusta  Rava;  but  I  am  a 
Spaniard,  and  Spaniards  have  done  your  country  wrongs 
that  will  not  be  forgotten  whilst  there  lives  a  father  in 
Tavantinsuyu  to  tell  them  to  his  sons.  They  will  do  more 
grievous  ones,  for  I  know  them  well.  Their  deeds  will 
breed  a  hatred  for  my  race  that  will  not  die  in  a  thousand 
years.  Think  not  that  my  blood  can  be  overlooked." 

Rava  was  pale.  "  But,  Viracocha,"  she  said  faintly, 
after  a  moment,  "you  had  no  part  in  those  deeds  —  nor 
will  have." 

"  I  had  no  part  in  the  massacre,  and  strove  to  save  thy 
brother  —  but  failed." 

She  touched  his  arm  timidly.  "  Your  friendship  for 
him,  as  well  as  for  me,  shall  be  remembered.  Be  sure  of  it." 

Cristoval  shook  his  head.  "  It  may  be  so,  Nusta  Rava ; 
but  to  thy  people  I  shall  always  be  one  of  the  race 
accursed." 


208  THE    CRIMSON    CONQUEST 

She  looked  long  toward  the  lake  and  beyond.  He  re 
sumed  with  his  kindly  smile :  "  And  now,  child,  I  shall 
presently  give  thee  into  the  hands  of  thy  friends,  and 
thou  'It  be  '  child '  no  longer,  but  a  Daughter  of  the  Sun, 
surrounded  by  a  court,  inaccessible  to  thy  rusty  cavalier, 
and  with  thousands  ready  to  do  for  thee  more  than  he  hath 
done  —  though  not  more  gladly,  upon  my  heart !  " 

She  turned  to  him  quickly,  her  lips  parted.  No  words 
were  uttered,  but  Cristoval  saw  a  depth  and  strange  lustre 
in  her  eyes  that  haunted  his  memory.  The  look  was  brief 
and  unfathomable.  She  extended  her  hand  —  quite  cold, 
he  noted  —  and  faltered,  "  Let  us  go,  Viracocha."  He 
bent  over  it,  and  led  her  to  the  horse. 

Cristoval  walked  on  beside  the  head  of  the  steed, 
striving  to  divine  what  she  had  been  about  to  say,  and  the 
meaning  of  the  fleeting  expression.  He  looked  back  at 
her,  but  she  seemed  lost  in  reverie,  and  gave  him  but  a 
brief  downward  glance  half  hidden  beneath  the  veil  of  her 
lashes,  with  the  faintest  trace  of  a  smile.  But,  he  thought, 
the  smile  had  more  of  sadness  than  her  expression  of 
repose. 

They  had  covered  half  the  distance  to  the  town  when 
their  guide,  who  was  some  paces  in  advance,  halted,  faced 
about,  and  went  upon  his  knees,  bending  until  his  forehead 
touched  the  ground. 

*  Ah !  "  growled  Cristoval  to  himself,  "  there  goeth 
that  benighted  varlet  nosing  the  dust  once  more.  The  ten 
thousandth  time  since  we  left  his  hut!  Well,  doubtless 
he  hath,  with  our  gracious  permission,  some  humble  matter 
of  information."  He  led  up  to  the  prostrate  Peruvian  and 
stopped,  waiting  patiently  for  the  development. 

"Rise,  Mati,"  said  Rava,  gently.  "What  wouldst 
thou  say?  '* 

Pointing  toward  the  lower  valley,  he  said  diffidently: 
"  Most  illustrious  Daughter  of  Inti,  if  you  will  permit, 


THE   VALE   OF   XILCALA  209 

yonder  villa  on  the  hill  between  this  and  Xilcala  is  the 
home  of  the  Palla1  Maytalca." 

"Oh!  Is  it  so,  Mati?"  cried  Rava,  eagerly.  "Then, 
Viracocha  Cristoval,  it  will  be  ours.  The  Palla  Maytalca 
is  a  kinswoman  and  was  one  of  my  royal  father's  house 
hold.  In  my  childhood  I  loved  her  well.  We  shall  be  most 
welcome.  Mati,  do  thou  go  forward  and  prepare  her  for 
our  coming." 

The  youth  dropped  to  the  ground  again,  rose,  and 
backed  away  for  a  dozen  yards,  then  turned  and  sped  down 
the  trail.  They  followed,  and  the  path  shortly  entered  a 
lane  between  rows  of  willows  around  the  margin  of  the 
lake.  Night  was  coming  rapidly,  and  it  was  almost  dark 
when  they  arrived  at  the  gateway  of  the  villa.  Mati  met 
them,  and  Rava  having  dismounted,  Cristoval  removed  his 
helmet,  tethered  his  horse,  and  they  followed  the  herds 
man  down  an  avenue  of  trees  toward  the  residence.  It  was 
a  rambling  building,  or  a  group  of  several,  and  of  a  size 
comporting  with  the  rank  of  its  occupant.  As  they  drew 
near  torches  flashed  toward  them,  and  they  were  presently 
met  by  the  Palla  Maytalca,  advancing  with  perturbation, 
attended  by  excited  young  women  and  torch-bearers.  Rava 
uttered  a  cry  of  joy  and  threw  herself  into  the  Palla's  arms, 
and  the  two  mingled  their  broken  exclamations  of  delight. 
Cristoval  halted  a  few  paces  back. 

"  Rava,  Rava,  my  best  beloved !  "  at  last  exclaimed  the 
Palla,  holding  the  girl  at  arm's  length,  surveying  her  in 
surprise  and  fondness.  "  I  cannot  believe  it  is  thou.  Hast 
come  from  the  clouds?  By  what  miracle  of  the  great  Inti 
art  thou  here?" 

"  Oh,  I  hardly  know,  dearest  Maytalca  I "  answered 
Rava,  smiling  and  sobbing,  "and  can  make  it  seem  real 
no  more  easily  than  thou.  Nor  can  I  tell  thee  the  thousand 
perils  in  our  coming.  Had  it  not  been  for  the  bravest  and 

1  Palla  =  married  woman  of  the  blood-royal. 
14 


210 

best  of  friends  —  oh,  Viracocha  Cristoval,  I  pray  you  come 
nearer !  —  This  is  he,  Maytalca :  my  deliverer  and  de 
fender —  the  Viracocha  Cristoval." 

The  lady  started  as  his  grim,  warlike  figure  clanked 
out  of  the  obscurity  and  the  light  fell  upon  his  steel.  Ob 
serving  her  trepidation  the  cavalier  halted,  saying  as  he 
bowed :  "  Palla  Maytalca,  you  do  not  know  my  joy  in  seeing 
the  Nusta  Rava  at  last  in  safety,  and  in  witnessing  her 
affectionate  welcome." 

His  voice  and  manner  were  reassuring,  and  she  con 
quered  her  fears  sufficiently  to  extend  a  trembling  hand 
and  say,  timidly :  "  One  who  hath  befriended  the  Nusta 
Rava,  Viracocha,  hath  no  need  to  be  assured  of  a  welcome 
to  the  home  of  Maytalca.  It  is  yours." 

"  Be  sure  of  my  gratitude,"  said  Cristoval,  as  with 
Rava  he  followed  their  hostess  to  the  villa.  As  the  Prin 
cess  passed,  the  kneeling  attendants  rose  and  went  after, 
dumb  with  awe  of  the  royal  maiden  and  her  mysterious 
companion. 

The  Palla  led  across  a  terrace  into  a  large  hall,  brightly 
lighted  and  strewn  with  rugs.  A  pair  of  braziers  were 
burning,  for  the  evening  was  growing  chill,  and  Rava  was 
soon  established  among  the  cushions  of  a  divan,  giving 
a  hurried  though  unconnected  narrative  of  her  late  adven 
tures  to  the  wondering  Maytalca.  The  Palla,  who,  as  her 
title  indicated,  was  of  royal  blood,  though  not  of  the  reign 
ing  family,  was  the  widow  of  one  of  the  princes  of  the 
realm.  She  was  a  stately  woman,  just  past  middle  age, 
with  hair  slightly  touched  with  gray,  and  robed  in  the  rich 
costume  of  the  women  of  the  nobility.  Her  bearing  was 
that  of  a  gentlewoman,  and  whatever  disquietude  she  felt 
at  her  steel-clad  guest  it  was  effectually  concealed.  As  a 
matter  of  fact  he  gave  an  impression  of  formidableness  with 
his  rust-streaked  armor,  his  half-grown  beard,  eyes  burning 
in  sockets  made  deep  by  hardship,  and  cheeks  hollowed  by 


THE   VALE   OF   XILCALA  211 

the  recent  toil  and  hunger,  which  his  gentle  comportment 
could  only  half  dispel.  When  he  excused  himself  some 
minutes  later  and  left  the  room  with  a  servant  to  look  after 
his  horse,  the  Palla  turned  to  Rava  and  seized  her  hands. 

"  Rava,  my  child,"  she  exclaimed,  in  a  low  voice,  "  how 
hadst  thou  courage  to  trust  thyself  with  that  terrible- 
appearing  man?  I  tremble  to  look  at  him!  I  shall  never 
sleep  while  he  is  beneath  the  shelter  of  this  roof." 

Rava  smiled  up  at  her  from  her  cushions.  "  Ah,  May- 
talca,  thou  dost  not  know  him!  Had  I  been  a  child  he 
could  not  have  been  more  gentle.  Indeed,"  and  the 
slightest  pout  came  into  her  expression,  "  he  seemeth  to 
hold  me  but  a  child !  But  oh,  my  dear,  he  is  brave  as  he  is 
kind!  The  god  Viracocha  himself  were  not  more  terrible 
when  he  meeteth  an  enemy:  nor  thou  more  tender  than 
he  hath  been  to  me.  He  is  invincible;  yet  hath  the  heart 
of  a  woman.  Sleep  as  thou  wouldst  with  Inti  guarding, 
dearest  Maytalca.  Thou  'It  love  him." 

The  Palla  seated  herself  beside  the  girl  and  placed  an 
arm  about  her,  gravely  studying  her  eyes.  "  Hast  thou 
found,  Rava,  such  traits  in  thy  protector?  " 

Rava  turned  her  eyes  upon  her  for  an  instant  with 
a  half-frightened  look,  then  dropped  them  with  sudden  re 
serve.  "  He  was  the  Inca's  trusted  friend,  Maytalca,"  she 
replied,  with  womanly  art,  "  and  hath  been  mine.  I  believe 
him  most  worthy." 

The  entrance  of  the  cavalier  interrupted.  He  tarried 
but  a  moment  for  a  brief  but  ceremonious  leave-taking 
for  the  night,  then  followed  a  servant  to  the  apartment 
which  the  Palla  said  he  should  regard  as  his  own.  It  was 
in  a  wing  forming  one  side  of  a  rear  court  which  opened 
toward  the  lake,  and  he  found  the  chamber  one  which  might 
have  suited  a  Moorish  prince.  It  was  decorated  with  the 
richness  of  style  which  had  already  become  familiar,  fur 
nished  with  the  usual  cushioned  chairs,  tables  of  polished 


212  THE    CRIMSON    CONQUEST 

stone,  and  a  divan  which  looked  more  inviting  than  any  the 
weary  soldier  had  laid  eyes  upon  for  many  days.  The 
attendant  opened  a  door  and  showed  him  a  small  court 
with  a  pool  fed  by  a  running  stream  for  bathing,  then  aided 
him  to  disarm,  and  with  the  announcement  that  his  supper 
would  be  sent  presently,  backed  out  with  a  profound  rev 
erence.  By  the  time  Cristoval  had  finished  his  bath  the 
repast  was  served,  and  an  hour  later  he  was  asleep. 

He  was  aroused  in  the  morning  by  a  persistent  rap 
ping.  Calling  a  summons  to  enter,  a  youth  presented  him 
self,  dropping  immediately  upon  his  knees  and  bending  to 
the  floor.  Weariness  came  into  the  face  of  the  cavalier 
at  the  obeisance,  and  he  directed  the  boy  to  rise.  He  did 
so,  backed  out  of  the  door,  and  reappeared  with  a  goblet 
and  an  armful  of  apparel.  The  latter  he  laid  over  a  chair, 
and  approaching  the  couch,  knelt  to  tender  the  cup. 

"  Viracocha,"  he  said,  humbly,  "  my  mistress  sendeth 
her  morning  greeting  with  the  prayer  that  the  Sun  have 
you  in  his  protection." 

"  It  is  most  kind  of  her,"  said  Cristoval,  rising  upon  his 
elbow.  "  Bear  mine  in  return  to  her,  and  thank  her  for 
me.  What  is  this?  Ah!  Hot  chicha  and  water.  It  is 
thoughtful,  boy." 

"  Viracocha,"  said  the  youth  again,  "  it  hath  pleased 
my  mistress  to  honor  me  with  the  command  to  serve 
you." 

"  She  is  very  gracious,"  returned  Cristoval,  looking 
the  boy  over  with  favor.  "  Thank  her  also  for  this.  But 
what  was  thine  other  burden  —  that  on  the  chair?" 

"  Fresh  garments  for  you,  Viracocha." 

"  Surely?  "  said  the  cavalier.  "  I  thank  her  again, 
sincerely,  for  I  had  sore  need.  I  will  rise  at  once." 

The  youth  retreated  backward  to  the  door,  and  started 
to  go  once  more  upon  his  knees. 

"  Stay ! "     said    Cristoval,    quickly    interrupting    the 


THE   VALE   OF   XILCALA  213 

movement.    "  There  is  one  matter  whereof  I  would  speak 

—  but  what  is  thy  name,  lad?    Markumi?    Good!    Well, 
Markumi,  there  is,  as  I  say,  one  thing  I  would  mention  — 
a  trifle,  but  as  we  may  be  thrown  together  for  a  time,  it  may 
concern  our  peace  of  mind.    It  is  this:  I  am  not  an  Inca, 
Markumi,  nor  an  idol,  nor  an  altar,  nor  yet  a  heathen  god, 
nor  a  saint ;  and  may  never  be  any  one  of  them,  though  I 
have  a  namesake  who  is  the  last  —  San  Cristoval,  of  blessed 
memory,  of  whom  thou  mayst  some  day  learn.    But,  being 
neither  one  nor  another,  this  excessive  reverence  doth  not 
relish  me.    I  am  a  plain  soldier,  and  love  naught  better  than 
to  see  a  man  upright  on  his  two  legs.    Reserve,  therefore, 
thy  homage  for  the  ladies,  who  have  full  claim  and  title  to 
it ;  and  thy  cramps  for  the  Inca,  who  may  be  wonted  to  it 

—  as  I  am  not.     Dost  comprehend,  Markumi?" 

"  Not  clearly,  Viracocha,"  replied  Markumi,  with  em 
barrassment. 

"  Why,  what  I  mean  is  this.  Keep  off  thy  knees. 
Bow  to  me  with  moderation,  temperately,  and  without 
extravagance,  and  I  '11  like  it  better.  Is  it  plain?  " 

"Yes,  Viracocha." 

"  That  is  a  good  lad.  And  now,  is  there  a  man  in  thy 
village  who  can  trim  hair?  Ah!  Then  fetch  him.  And 
Markumi  —  " 

"  Yes,  Viracocha." 

"  Advise  him  about  the  manner  of  his  approach."  And 
he  added  to  himself :  "  I  '11  have  no  barber  coming  before 
me  in  the  attitude  of  a  cow  just  rising  from  her  bed.  I 
weary  of  it." 

Cristoval  arose  quite  himself.  He  hummed  through 
his  bath  and  was  cheerful  until  he  confronted  the  chair 
holding  the  apparel  sent  by  the  Palla.  Then  his  face  grew 
sombre. 

"  Santa  Maria!"  he  whispered.  "Do  I  face  the  need 
of  donning  this  infidel  caparison?  Must  I  forswear  the 


214  THE    CRIMSON    CONQUEST 

guise  and  earmarks  of  a  Christian?  On  my  soul,  'twill 
stick  sorely  in  my  conscience !  "  He  lifted  one  piece  after 
another  from  the  pile,  surveying  them  at  arm's  length, 
then  turned  to  his  own  sadly  worn  garments.  "  No  help 
for  it,  Cristoval,"  he  said,  as  he  overhauled  them.  "  They 
are  rent,  torn,  ripped,  and  decrepit,  to  say  naught  of  the 
stains  of  hard  travel.  Well,  may  Heaven  overlook  my 
heathen  masquerade ! "  He  returned  to  the  others  and 
gloomily  began  to  dress. 

The  costume  was  that  of  a  Peruvian  noble:  a  shirt 
of  white  cotton,  another  of  white  wool,  and  a  loose,  sleeve 
less  tunic,  handsomely  woven  in  rich  colors  and  conven 
tional  design,  to  be  belted  in  at  the  waist,  leaving  its  skirts 
falling  as  a  kilt  almost  to  the  knees.  There  was  a  girdle 
—  a  broad  band,  highly  ornamental  in  its  woven  pattern, 
heavily  fringed  with  flat  braids  of  cord,  each  of  half  the 
breadth  of  a  hand,  and  reaching  to  the  bottom  of  the  tunic. 
Over  this  was  worn  a  belt,  and  Cristoval  lifted  it  with  an 
exclamation.  It  was  of  soft  leather,  and  mounted  with 
heavily  embossed  plates  of  alternate  gold  and  silver. 

"  By  the  saints ! "  quoth  he.  "  Should  Pizarro  rest 
his  eye  upon  this  he  'd  raise  my  price." 

A  cloak,  or  poncho,  and  a  pouch  to  be  hung  from  the 
belt,  equally  rich  in  design  and  color  with  the  tunic,  com 
pleted  the  apparel  for  the  body.  A  pair  of  sandals,  or 
buskins,  with  broad  straps  highly  ornate,  and  provided  with 
protecting  toe-pieces  and  side-pieces,  were  beside  the  chair. 
These  laced  half-way  up  to  the  knees.  The  costume  was 
picturesque,  thoroughly  graceful  and  masculine,  and  re 
vealed  his  strength  of  arm  and  symmetry  of  leg ;  but  as  he 
glanced  downward  his  eyes  rested  upon  his  bare  knees  and 
half-bare  calves. 

"  Oh,  the  fighting  saint ! "  he  exclaimed,  in  dismay. 
"  My  knees !  Stark,  gleaming,  barefaced,  preeminent 
knees !  Gods !  I  'm  all  knees !  O,  San  Miguel,  clap  thine 


THE   VALE    OF   XILCALA  215 

eyes  upon  them !  Didst  ever  see  so  many  knees,  and  knees 
so  braggart  in  their  nakedness?  Name  of  a  fiend!  " 

He  tugged  at  the  kilt  to  bring  it  lower,  but  vainly, 
and  he  sat  down. 

"  A  thousand  curses !  "  he  groaned,  as  he  contemplated 
them.  "  Thrice  more  flagrant  in  repose ! "  He  rose  and 
moved  about,  watching  them  narrowly.  "  Flashing  like 
the  beacons  of  Tarragona  when  I  walk!  Ah,  Blessed 
Mother,  can  I  ever  lug  their  effrontery  into  the  gaze  of 
women's  eyes?  Oh,  would  that  I  were  Pedro!  then  this 
immodesty  were  reduced  by  half.  Blood  and  Misery !  " 

He  was  standing  helpless  when  Markumi  entered  with 
his  breakfast.  Cristoval  eyed  him  closely,  but  the  boy 
observed  nothing  unusual,  merely  announcing  as  he  set 
to  work  to  arrange  the  table  that  the  man  would  come 
presently  to  trim  his  hair.  His  knees  were  bare  too,  of 
course,  and  Cristoval  envied  their  brown.  Bienl  He  would 
sun  his  own  assidiously  —  and  he  sat  down  with  a  gradu 
ally  returning  feeling  of  composure. 

By  the  time  he  had  breakfasted  the  barber  arrived. 
Cristoval  hoped  to  be  shaved ;  but  learning  that  the  Peru 
vians  used  only  tweezers,  gave  it  up,  forced  to  be  content 
with  the  closest  possible  trimming.  Even  this  he  would 
have  forgone  but  for  Rava,  who  disliked,  and  more  than 
half  feared,  the  Viracocha  beard.  An  hour  later,  with  head 
and  face  reduced  to  order,  Cristoval  strolled  out  in  search 
of  his  hostess. 

The  court  in  the  rear,  as  he  had  observed  the  night 
before,  was  open  toward  the  lake  and  guarded  on  that  side 
by  a  low  parapet  from  which  steps  descended  to  a  broad 
avenue  through  the  trees,  from  terrace  to  terrace  to  the 
shore,  a  few  hundred  yards  distant.  In  the  middle  of  the 
patio  was  the  usual  fountain,  and  on  each  side  a  parterre, 
at  one  of  which  a  venerable  servant  was  at  work  on  the 
budding  plants.  Before  Cristoval  could  prevent,  the  old 


2i6  THE   CRIMSON   CONQUEST 

man  prostrated  himself;  on  being  asked  for  the  Palla,  he 
rose  painfully  and  led  Cristoval  to  the  steps,  saying,  "  She 
walked  toward  the  lake  a  moment  ago,  Viracocha,  with  two 
young  friends.  No  doubt  you  will  find  her  on  the  shore." 

The  cavalier  thanked  him  and  looked  about.  The 
building  was  of  the  customary  massiveness  and  severity 
of  style,  modified  somewhat  by  numerous  windows  and 
niches,  and  by  the  sculptured  border  surrounding  each 
doorway.  This  decoration  struck  Cristoval  forcibly  as 
being  identical  with  the  simpler  forms  of  Grecian  frets 
seen  in  European  architecture.  Among  the  trees  on  either 
side  were  smaller  buildings  for  the  accommodation  of  the 
Palla's  servants.  The  site  had  been  chosen  with  the  fine 
appreciation  of  natural  beauty  of  surroundings  character 
istic  of  the  ancient  Peruvians.  From  the  foot  of  the  hill 
the  lake  spread  out  like  a  mirror,  reflecting  in  perfect  detail 
every  rugged  feature  of  the  opposite  mountains,  with  here 
and  there  a  streak  of  silver  where  its  surface  was  ruffled  by 
the  morning  breeze.  To  the  right  was  the  village  of  Xil- 
cala,  and  ten  miles  or  more  beyond,  the  narrow  gorge 
through  which  the  waters  of  the  lake  found  exit  on  their 
way  to  the  distant  sierra.  On  his  left,  toward  the  canyon 
he  had  descended  the  day  before,  was  a  stretch  of  rolling 
fields  with  groups  of  men  at  work,  and  he  caught  the  plain 
tive  melody  of  a  ploughing-song.  He  listened,  impressed 
by  the  sense  of  peace  which  pervaded  the  valley,  and  de 
scended  the  steps  to  the  avenue.  The  bank  was  terraced 
to  the  water's  edge,  each  terrace  with  its  trees,  shrubbery, 
winding  paths,  and  nooks  with  benches  inviting  idleness. 
At  the  margin  of  the  lake  was  a  sunny  space,  or  hemicycle, 
from  which  opened  a  charming  panorama  of  the  lake ;  and 
surrounding  it  were  broad,  high-backed  stone  seats,  shaded 
by  overhanging  foliage.  One  bench  was  covered  with  rugs 
and  cushions,  and  bits  of  half-finished  embroidery  indicated 
the  recent  presence  of  the  ladies. 


THE   VALE   OF   XILCALA  217 

The  cavalier  turned  into  the  path  along  the  shore.  He 
had  not  gone  far  before  he  heard  voices,  and  another  step 
brought  him  face  to  face  with  his  hostess.  She  was  ad 
vancing  slowly,  her  arms  encircling  a  maiden  on  each  side. 
They  walked  with  hands  resting  affectionately  on  her 
shoulders,  bending  forward  and  listening,  the  attention  of 
all  so  engaged  in  conversation  that  Cristoval  had  been 
unheard.  The  Palla  started  slightly  when  she  perceived 
her  guest,  but  disengaged  herself  and  came  to  greet  him. 

"  May  the  Sun  shine  kindly  upon  you  this  morning, 
Viracocha  Cristoval,"  she  said,  offering  her  hand.  "  I 
rejoice  to  see  that  your  recent  hardships  have  left  few 
traces." 

Her  cordiality  and  freedom  from  constraint,  due  in 
part  to  his  altered  appearance,  but  in  a  great  degree  also 
to  Rava's  influence,  placed  the  cavalier  at  ease,  and  he  for 
got  his  knees. 

"  The  traces  must  be  deep  indeed,"  he  replied,  "  not 
to  be  banished  by  the  gracious  hospitality  of  the  Palla 
Maytalca.  The  hardships  are  no  longer  remembered." 

"  I  fear  you  belittle  them,"  she  said,  with  a  smile  and  a 
slight  flush.  "  The  Nusta  Rava  hath  already  told  me  much 
of  your  terrible  journey,  and  my  wonder  that  she  endured 
it  is  only  less  than  my  thankfulness  that  she  had  so  good 
a  guardian." 

Cristoval  bowed  again.  "  The  Nusta  Rava  hath  rare 
spirit.  I  trust  she  will  quickly  regain  her  strength,  Palla 
Maytalca." 

Cristoval  showed  his  anxiety,  and  the  lady  hastened 
to  assure  him  that  his  ward  needed  only  rest.  "  But  now," 
she  said,  "  let  me  make  you  known  to  my  young  com 
panions,"  and  she  called  to  the  damsels  a  few  steps  away. 
Their  timidity  at  approaching  a  Viracocha,  to  them  a  fabu 
lous  and  dreaded  being,  was  dissipated  by  his  simple  kindli 
ness  of  manner,  and  when  the  quartet  reached  the  hemicycle 


218  THE   CRIMSON    CONQUEST 

the  first  reserve  had  gone.  The  maidens  were  the  daugh 
ters  of  the  curaca  of  Xilcala,  the  Palla  explained,  and 
spent  much  of  their  time  with  her,  acquiring  what  accom 
plishments  she  could  impart,  and  affording  her  welcome 
companionship  in  return.  They  were  handsome,  graceful 
girls,  and  compared  favorably,  Cristoval  thought,  with  the 
senoritas  of  Castile. 

All  three  were  soon  engaged  with  their  embroidery, 
Maytalca  often  pausing  to  listen  breathlessly  to  the 
cavalier's  details  of  the  flight  from  Caxamalca.  He  gave 
them  simply,  passing  over  incidents  that  involved  his  own 
courage,  and  dwelling  with  quiet  enthusiasm  upon  Rava's 
fortitude.  But  his  hostess  had  heard  from  the  Nusta 
more  of  the  former  than  of  the  latter,  and  she  was  rapidly 
coming  to  share  the  estimate  of  him  held  by  his  grateful 
protegee.  At  his  mention  of  the  Canares  her  face  became 
grave. 

"  I  fear  them,  Viracocha  Cristoval,"  she  said,  seriously. 
"  They  are  as  wolves  on  the  track  of  a  wounded  deer.  It  is 
a  tribe  which  hath  cost  the  Incas  most  heavily  to  subdue, 
and  their  subjection  hath  never  been  complete.  They  were 
conquered  first  by  the  Inca  Tupac  Yupanqui,  but  revolted 
some  years  ago  and  were  repressed  at  terrible  sacrifice  of 
life.  The  tribe  hath  never  taken  kindly  to  our  laws  and 
institutions,  and  hath  always  resisted  the  benevolent  efforts 
of  the  Incas  to  lift  them  from  savagery.  It  is  true,  they 
fought  with  our  unhappy  Huascar  against  Atahualpa,  but 
they  were  influenced,  I  have  always  thought,  less  by 
loyalty  to  Tavantinsuyu  than  by  their  native  treachery,  for 
they  were  once  subject  to  Quito.  Now  they  hate  Quito  and 
Cuzco  alike,  and  I  wonder  not  at  their  traitorous  alliance 
with  the  invaders.  —  Pardon  me,  Viracocha  Cristoval !  " 

"  You  are  not  talking  to  an  enemy  of  Tavantinsuyu, 
Palla  Maytalca,"  said  Cristoval,  quietly. 

"  I  believe  it,"  she  returned,  with  a  quick  glance.    w  I 


THE   VALE   OF    XILCALA  219 

think  it  hath  been  proven.  But,"  she  resumed,  after  a 
pause,  "  I  dread  the  thought  of  the  Canares  following." 

Cristoval  was  silent  for  a  moment.  "  I  should  think 
it  impossible  that  we  could  be  traced  by  any  living  crea 
ture,"  he  said,  at  length. 

"  They  will  search  every  crevice  of  these  mountains ; 
and  the  distance  from  here  to  Caxamalca  is  not  great, 
Viracocha." 


CHAPTER  XIX 
Hearts  Perplexed 

THE  ensuing  days  were  such  as  had  rarely  entered 
into  Peralta's  adventurous  and  somewhat  reck 
less  life.  The  enclosing  mountains  seemed  jeal 
ous  of  the  intrusion  even  of  thoughts  of  the 
outside  world,  and  the  soft  air  and  prevailing  sense  of  peace 
cast  a  spell  to  which  he  fell  a  willing  subject.  Save  for 
a  rumor  that  Pizarro  had  placed  the  imperial  llautu.  upon 
the  head  of  Toparca  and  had  begun  his  advance  upon 
Cuzco,  attended  by  his  allies  the  Canares,  ravaging  as  they 
moved,  the  vale  was  without  tidings.  The  last  of  these  told 
of  the  arrival  of  the  Spaniards  at  Xauxa,  some  fifty  leagues 
to  the  south,  and  of  increasing  resistance  from  native  war 
riors,  led,  it  was  said,  by  Prince  Manco,  Rava's  full  brother 
and  rightful  heir  to  the  throne.  The  devastating  march 
of  the  conquistadors  had  passed  far  to  the  eastward,  leaving 
a  demoralization  which  interrupted  all  regular  communica 
tion,  and  the  secluded  valley  seemed  forgotten  of  the  world. 
At  first  Cristoval  bore  the  inaction  with  uneasiness. 
Until  he  should  have  placed  the  Nusta  Rava  in  the  pro 
tection  of  her  brother  Manco,  his  duty  would  be  unfulfilled ; 
and  although  he  looked  forward  to  the  ultimate  surrender 
of  his  guardianship  with  a  reluctance  only  half  confessed 
to  himself,  yet  his  vow  to  Atahualpa  was  paramount.  Very 
soon,  however,  the  impossibility  of  reaching  Cuzco  with 
Pizarro  in  the  way  became  apparent.  For  the  present  they 
must  remain  at  Xilcala,  and  the  cavalier  was  forced  to 
admit  a  feeling  of  relief. 


221 

So  he  surrendered  to  the  dreamy  quiet  of  Xilcala,  grow 
ing  daily  more  compliant.  Nevertheless,  the  unwelcome 
prospective  forced  itself  upon  him  with  an  insistence  he 
could  not  always  put  aside.  One  morning  he  was  sitting 
with  Rava  and  their  hostess  in  the  hemicycle  where  they 
usually  passed  the  warmer  hours  of  the  day,  and  the  con 
versation  turned,  as  often,  upon  far-away  Cuzco,  and  their 
prospects  of  reaching  it.  Something  called  Maytalca  away, 
and  the  two  were  left  to  themselves,  lapsing  at  once  into 
the  silence  without  constraint  privileged  to  close  friend 
ship  and  sympathy.  Rava,  engaged  upon  an  embroidered 
trifle,  glanced  from  time  to  time  toward  the  vacant  lake, 
or  at  her  ruminating  companion  as  he  sat  watching  the  in 
tricacies  of  her  work.  At  length  she  spoke,  using  the  more 
familiar  form,  and  having  dropped,  at  his  request,  the 
appellation  of  Viracocha. 

"  Thou  art  thoughtful,  Cristoval,"  she  said,  looking  up 
from  her  work.  "  I  fear  idleness  beginneth  to  burden 
thee." 

Cristoval  smiled  at  her  genially.  "To  burden  me, 
child!  I  would  I  might  always  bear  so  light  a  burden  as 
this  soft  sunshine  and  thy  companionship.  No,  I  Ve  lived 
through  weightier  cares  and  kept  my  spirits.  I  was  but 
thinking  of  the  day  when  it  must  end." 

He  was  looking  away  when  he  concluded,  and  failed 
to  see  the  tremor  of  her  fingers  as  she  resumed  her  task. 
He  was  silent  for  a  moment,  then  continued,  with  a  ring  of 
sadness,  "  No,  Nusta  Rava,  I  could  not  weary  of  this.  But 
it  cannot  last  forever.  When  I  see  thee  in  safety,  then  I 
must  go.  I  have  thought  of  a  friend  whom  I  may  trust  to 
take  me  back  to  Panama  —  whence  we  sailed  for  thy 
shores.  Once  there,"  he  went  on,  talking  rather  to  himself 
than  to  her,  "  I  can  make  my  way  to  Spain  —  for  I  swear 
never  again  to  draw  sword  against  the  people  of  this 
western  world.  There  is  no  glory  in  it,  and  there  are  wars 


222  THE    CRIMSON    CONQUEST 

enough  at  home  where  honor  may  be  won  as  becometh 
a  Christian." 

Rava  was  very  still,  her  head  bent  over  her  work,  her 
face  colorless  and  dull.  Alas!  she  thought  with  sudden 
heaviness  of  heart,  he  is  but  a  Viracocha,  and  can  be  naught 
else.  No  thought  of  love  but  for  his  sword,  no  passion 
but  for  war.  He  is  like  his  kind  —  less  men  than  gods  of 
destruction;  gifted  with  power  and  wisdom,  but  cursed 
with  heartlessness.  But  no !  Surely  he  was  not  without  a 
heart,  for  had  he  not  guarded  her  with  a  tenderness  un 
varying  and  almost  womanly?  Assuredly  not  heartless  in 
that  sense  at  least !  And  there  was  affection  of  some  nature 
in  every  look  and  intonation.  She  was  conscious  of  that, 
for  he  had  never  striven  to  conceal  it,  and  could  not  have 
done  so  from  her  had  he  so  striven.  But,  ah  me !  it  must  be 
that  his  was  not  a  human  heart  like  hers.  He  was  of  an 
other  world,  as  her  people  said  —  inscrutable,  unknowable. 
She  looked  up  once  more,  searching  his  eyes  this  time  with 
strange  inquiry,  and  quite  unconscious  of  her  intentness. 
The  kindliness  of  Cristoval's  face  faded  into  surprise. 

"  Why,  Heaven  bless  thee,  child ! "  he  exclaimed. 
"  What  is  in  thy  thoughts?  Hast  a  question  thou  wouldst 
ask?  " 

She  looked  away,  saying  with  a  sigh,  "  Thou  art  a 
Viracocha,  Cristoval ! "  and  left  him  pondering  a  riddle  as 
insoluble  to  him  as  he  was  to  her. 

Soon  afterward  she  arose  to  go.  He  escorted  her  to 
the  head  of  the  avenue,  and  turned  slowly  back.  "  I  am  a 
Viracocha !  "  he  repeated  to  himself  a  dozen  times,  revolv 
ing  it  in  perplexity.  "  A  Viracocha !  Now,  in  the  name  of 
a  saint,  what  meaneth  she  by  that?  Of  course  I  'm  a  Vira 
cocha —  to  her  unlettered  people;  but  none,  in  saying  it, 
ever  looked  me  through  and  through  with  eyes  as  big  as  if 
I  were  a  genie  out  of  a  bottle  in  some  tale  of  Araby!  A 
Viracocha,  quoth  she!  Who  was  this  Viracocha?  Ha! 


HEARTS   PERPLEXED  223 

a  heathen  god,  I  've  heard ;  which  is  to  say,  a  devil ! 
Madrel  Meaneth  she  that  I  am  a  devil?  No,  bless  her 
heart,  that  is  far  from  it,  I  '11  stake  my  head !  H'm !  I  '11 
ask  Markumi.  No,  I  '11  not !  He  may  give  this  Viracocha 
deity  a  reputation  that  will  make  me  repent  the  asking. 
These  pagan  gods  are  oft  unsavory,  the  best  of  them. 
'T  is  better  to  be  in  doubt.  But,  ay  de  mi,  Cristoval, 
thou  'it  beyond  thy  depth  in  this  business  with  women.  It 
hath  more  of  unexpectedness  than  a  bee-stung  colt." 

He  wandered  and  pondered  for  an  hour,  then  gave  it 
up,  saddled  his  horse,  and  rode  off  down  the  valley. 

However  inscrutable  Cristoval  was  to  Rava,  or  how 
ever  perplexing  she  was  at  times  to  him,  their  separate 
problems  did  not  mar  the  harmony  of  the  days  in  the  Vale 
of  Xilcala.  They  were  much  together,  for  they  had  neither 
occupation  nor  preoccupation  to  keep  them  apart.  There 
were  long  walks  along  the  lake  or  among  the  hills;  and 
visits  to  the  cottagers,  to  whom  their  beloved  Nusta  came 
as  a  gentle  spirit  of  sympathy  in  their  sorrows,  or  a  sharer 
of  their  simple  joys.  There  were  quiet  hours  in  the  gar 
den,  often  with  Maytalca  and  the  daughters  of  the  curaca, 
Huallampo;  but  much  of  the  time  the  Princess  and  Cris 
toval  were  alone,  strolling  the  shaded  paths,  or  sitting  in 
the  hemicycle,  where  Rava  busied  herself  with  some  dainty 
fabric  while  Cristoval  watched  and  mused  in  the  intervals 
of  fitful  conversation. 

Under  these  conditions  it  is  less  than  strange  that 
Rava  should  wonder,  not  without  disappointment,  that  the 
cavalier  should  turn  his  thoughts  to  war  and  its  cruel  glory. 
And  it  is  not  more  than  strange  that  his  thoughts  should 
take  this  bent  with  growing  infrequency,  or  that  he  should 
look  forward  with  more  and  more  reluctance  to  the  time 
when  his  role  of  guardian  must  be  resigned,  and  the  days 
in  Xilcala  be  of  the  past.  For,  if  the  difference  of  race, 
of  age,  of  culture,  combined  with  the  brevity  of  their 


224  THE    CRIMSON    CONQUEST 

association  to  make  difficult  to  each  the  real  nature  of  the 
other,  yet  the  circumstances  and  the  sentiment  consequent 
upon  their  lately  shared  dangers  were  favorable  for  a  live 
and  romantic  sympathy.  Upon  the  heart  of  the  girl,  in 
deed,  such  incidents  could  have  but  one  effect. 

And  assuredly,  if  Rava  was  disposed  to  endow  her 
champion  with  attributes  above  the  human,  he  was  little 
behind  in  his  exalted  estimate  of  her.  He  had  been  bred  a 
soldier,  and  as  such  his  experience  with  women  had  been 
largely  limited  to  those  of  the  sophisticated  type  accessible 
to  men  of  his  wandering  career.  His  youth  had  been 
passed  at  the  court  of  the  Marques  of  Cadiz,  where  he  had 
learned  more  of  intrigue  and  feminine  flexibility  than  of 
maidenly  traits ;  and  the  rigid  seclusion  of  the  unmarried 
daughters  of  Castilian  families  of  the  better  classes  had  in 
hibited  anything  more  than  contemplation  of  duena-fended 
innocence  at  a  distance.  He  had  passed  through  his  callow 
period  of  fevers  and  deliriums  engendered  by  stolen  glances 
from  sefioritas'  eyes;  had  sighed  and  sung  and  thrummed 
o'  nights  beneath  half-open  lattices  and  dim  balconies,  not 
always  without  catastrophe  —  once  or  twice  with  spilt 
blood  of  his  own  or  a  rival's,  and  usually  without  better 
reward.  But  his  youth  had  flown  with  only  uncertain 
notions  of  the  charms  of  maidenhood,  and  he  carried  these 
to  the  wars  and  forgot  them.  He  had  been  in  love,  so  he 
had  thought,  many  times  and  in  many  lands;  but  it  was 
love  that  had  faded  to  mere  memories  of  names,  fondly 
enough  recalled,  no  doubt,  but  each  dismissed  with  a  sigh 
for  one  as  deep  as  for  another.  And  that  is  to  say  that  he 
had  never  been  in  love. 

It  is  conceivable,  therefore,  that  Rava's  delicacy,  in 
genuousness,  and  gentleness  of  nature,  together  with  his 
consciousness  of  protectorship,  and  of  her  implicit  faith  in 
him,  should  have  stirred  in  his  strong  heart  the  affection 
whose  many  evidences  she  had  not  failed  to  read.  The 


HEARTS    PERPLEXED  225 

sense  of  guardianship  alone,  to  a  man  of  his  stalwart  and 
generous  temperament,  would  have  gone  far  toward  creat 
ing  the  sentiment ;  more  than  that,  in  addition  to  the  attrac 
tion  of  her  youth  and  beauty,  he  felt  the  charm  of  a  graceful 
and  high-bred  mind.  Her  culture  was  not  Christian,  but  it 
was  culture,  nevertheless.  The  Inca  civilization  was  re 
fined;  more  so,  in  many  respects,  than  that  of  Spain  at 
the  period,  and  the  children  of  the  sovereigns  and  nobles 
were  scrupulously  trained  in  such  knowledge  and  accom 
plishments  as  their  rank  demanded.  And  so,  although 
Rava  was  unaware  that  the  earth  was  round,  that  her  con 
tinent  had  been  discovered  by  one  Cristoval  Colon,  and 
that  Charles  the  Fifth  was  emperor  of  the  Holy  Roman 
Empire,  until  she  had  been  informed  by  Cristoval,  yet  he 
found  her  a  gentlewoman  and  quite  the  intellectual  equal 
of  any  he  had  known  across  the  sea.  She  was,  in  fact, 
as  he  discovered,  better  versed  in  the  lore  of  her  people 
than  were  most  Christian  girls  in  the  scanty  knowledge 
then  afloat  in  Europe.  Learning  was  not  deemed  an  en 
tirely  desirable  possession  for  women  in  the  Old  World, 
nor  were  there  many  avenues  open  to  them  for  its  acquire 
ment.  Rava's  lack  of  information  in  matters  familiar  to 
the  cavalier  was  therefore  not  disturbing. 

Of  infinitely  more  concern  was  her  paganism,  and  this 
Cristoval  set  about  to  correct.  He  found  her  a  willing 
and  grateful  listener.  Her  unquestioning  faith  in  him  was 
broad  enough  to  cover  every  word  he  spoke.  If  she  ac 
cepted  the  fact  that  the  earth  was  a  sphere,  she  would  have 
believed  it  flat  again  had  he  said  so  the  next  moment  —  or 
that  it  was  a  cube,  or  upside-down,  or  inside-out.  Ah, 
Cristoval,  it  was  well  for  this  trusting  heart  that  thine  was 
true  and  chivalrous!  Hadst  been  the  Antichrist  thou 
wouldst  have  had  a  gentle  votary  ready  for  martyrdom  for 
her  faith  in  thee ! 

Rava  renounced  her  gods.  She  learned  her  Aves, 

'5 


226  THE    CRIMSON    CONQUEST 

Paternosters,  and  Credo,  and  accepted  CristovaTs  rosary 
and  crucifix,  nevermore  to  be  laid  aside. 

"  Cristoval,"  she  said  one  day,  "  dost  think  my  soul  is 
saved?  " 

"  Thy  soul  saved !  "  he  replied,  looking  fondly  down 
into  the  soft  eyes.  "  I  would  that  the  souls  of  half  the 
Christians,  or  mine  own,  were  near  as  sure  of  Heaven  as 
thine.  Some  day  we  must  have  thee  baptized.  If  I  could 
but  lay  hands  upon  the  good  Father  Tendilla!  However, 
that  will  come  about.  Meantime,  be  diligent  with  thy 
prayers,  and  we  shall  have  no  fear." 

As  we  may  be  sure,  a  new  bond  was  thus  created ;  and 
Cristoval,  as  spiritual  preceptor,  took  on  new  lustre  for 
his  grateful  proselyte.  The  good  cavalier,  now  relieved 
of  fear  for  her  soul's  welfare,  returned  earnest  thanks  to 
the  Virgin,  and  looked  upon  his  ward  with  affection  grow 
ing  perilously  fast. 

But,  alas!  Rava  was  paying  dearly  for  their  idyl  in 
Xilcala.  At  night  she  knelt  with  tears,  his  crucifix  tight- 
clasped,  and  with  a  hundred  prayers  for  every  one  he  en 
joined.  And  her  prayers  were  not  the  litanies  prescribed, 
but  supplications  such  as  many  a  maiden,  borne  down  by 
th«  sense  of  love  unreturned,  has  made  before  and  since. 
Thus,  through  long  hours  she  knelt,  until  weariness  drove 
her  to  her  pillow. 

In  the  mornings  the  swollen  eyelids  were  excused  to 
the  solicitous  Maytalca  with  pleas  of  sleeplessness.  But 
the  settled  sadness  was  not  explained.  It  vanished  momen 
tarily  in  CristovaTs  presence,  to  return  and  be  noted  by 
him  in  silence.  He  asked  no  question,  but  there  was  often 
questioning  in  his  eyes,  and  asked  thus  it  was  hardest  to 
bear.  Many  times  when  she  read  it  she  turned  from  him 
with  quivering  lips,  and  then  his  impulse  to  take  her  again 
in  his  arms  was  dangerously  strong.  But  he  forced  it  down 
relentlessly,  with  a  whispered  prayer  to  San  Antonio  of 


HEARTS    PERPLEXED  227 

transcendent  continence.  Only  once  he  took  her  hand, 
tremulous  and  unresisting ;  but  the  quick  rising  of  color  to 
her  cheeks  and  the  deepening  of  her  eyes  warned  him  of 
the  frail  barrier  between  them  and  peril,  and  he  relin 
quished  it  with  the  faintest  pressure.  But  that  night  Rava 
prayed  without  tears ! 

Stout-hearted  Cristoval!  It  cost  sorely  to  turn  away 
from  the  light  half  veiled  by  those  drooping  lashes,  but  the 
inevitable  parting  was  always  before  him.  Soon  he  must 
fly  Tavantinsuyu  —  if,  by  the  grace  of  Heaven,  the  way 
should  be  open.  If  not  flight,  then  death  in  the  attempt; 
and  in  either  event  what  would  be  left  behind?  The 
gentlest  breast  that  ever  sheltered  a  womanly  heart  torn 
by  lifelong  grief.  No ;  he  would  give  no  further  sign.  The 
dearer  the  happiness  now,  the  deeper  the  wound  for  each 
to  carry  to  the  grave.  And  what  was  his  vow  to  Ata- 
hualpa?  Ah,  Blessed  Virgin,  lend  thy  strength! 

So,  while  Rava  wept  and  offered  midnight  prayer, 
Cristoval  paced  his  room  and  offered  none.  The  sun 
light  of  Xilcala  had  grown  dim  for  both.  The  cloud 
was  not  unnoticed  by  Maytalca;  with  a  woman's  in 
tuition  she  divined  the  cause,  with  a  woman's  delicacy 
forbore  to  speak;  and  pressed  the  desolate  girl  in  tacit 
sympathy,  longing,  but  not  daring  to  bid  them  both  to 
hope.  They  were  more  constantly  together  than  before, 
driven  by  the  impulse  that  would  not  accept  defeat. 
But  alone,  they  walked  or  sat  in  silence  seldom  broken 
by  words. 

One  evening,  just  after  sunset,  they  were  standing  on 
the  shore  of  the  lake,  watching  the  afterglow  on  the  moun 
tains.  The  valley  was  already  shrouded  in  twilight,  but 
the  distant  peaks  gleamed  brilliant  rose  against  the  dark 
ening  blue  of  the  eastern  sky.  Alone,  Cristoval  would  have 
swept  the  prospect  with  a  glance  and  turned  away;  but 
now,  as  his  eyes  followed  her  guidance,  he  grew  conscious 


228  THE   CRIMSON   CONQUEST 

of  the  beauty  of  creeping  shadows  and  dying  light,  and 
echoed  her  quiet  admiration. 

They  turned  away  at  length,  and  walked  slowly  toward 
the  villa,  unconscious  of  the  evil  lurking  in  the  growing 
dusk.  They  passed  up  the  avenue,  and  a  dark  form  rose 
stealthily  from  the  shadow,  parting  the  branches  and  lean 
ing  forward  with  the  tense  alertness  of  a  cat  to  watch 
their  receding  steps.  They  disappeared,  and  after  a 
moment's  listening  the  half-naked  figure  skulked  along 
the  terrace,  crouching  to  avoid  the  overhanging  boughs, 
reached  the  enclosing  wall  of  the  garden,  and  was  over, 
speeding  away  in  the  darkness  like  an  apparition. 

An  hour  later  two  Canares  rose  from  their  lair  in  a 
ravine  half-way  up  the  mountain-side  to  receive  him.  He 
spoke  a  dozen  words,  answered  by  a  grunt  from  his  com 
panions;  groped  in  the  obscurity  for  his  cloak,  threw  it 
over  his  shoulders,  and  the  three  filed  out  from  their  con 
cealment,  heading  toward  the  lower  end  of  the  valley.  Six 
days  afterward  they  entered  Xauxa. 

Spring  was  now  well  advanced,  and  Xilcala  grew  daily 
more  fair  in  fresh  verdure  and  blossoming  orchards.  Stray, 
fragmentary  rumors  began  to  float  in,  borne  by  herdsmen 
on  their  way  to  pasturage  in  the  higher  Cordilleras.  But 
the  tales  had  reached  them  from  mouth  to  mouth,  and  so 
far  as  they  concerned  the  Spaniards,  were  tangled  and  over- 
colored.  One  day,  however,  there  came  news  of  a  differ 
ent  order,  brought  by  a  chasqai,  the  first  to  enter  the  valley 
in  many  weeks.  The  first  item  was  the  death  at  Xauxa 
of  the  young  Inca  Toparca,  and  the  burning  at  the  stake  by 
Pizarro  of  Challicuchima,  the  Quitoan  general,  on  the  sus 
picion  of  having  poisoned  the  Inca.  The  second  item, 
heard  with  greater  grief  by  the  Xilcalans,  was  Pizarro's 
advance  upon  Cuzco,  and  the  defeat  of  the  Auqui  Manco 
in  the  Pass  of  Vilcaconga,  where  he  had  opposed  the 


HEARTS    PERPLEXED  229 

invaders.  The  Spaniards,  it  was  thought  by  the  chasqui, 
were  doubtless  in  possession  of  the  capital.  Pizarro  had 
left  Xauxa  garrisoned  by  a  small  force  of  infantry  and  sev 
eral  hundred  Canares  to  serve  as  a  base  upon  which  to 
fall  back  if  forced  to  retreat  from  Cuzco. 

With  the  exception  of  Toparca's  death  there  was  noth 
ing  in  the  news  which  occasioned  surprise  to  Cristoval. 
He  was  too  familiar  with  Spanish  prowess  to  doubt  that 
Pizarro  would  take  Cuzco.  He  mourned  the  young  prince, 
but  there  was  more  than  the  intelligence  itself  to  cause 
him  uneasiness  and  depression.  The  seclusion  of  the  val 
ley  seemed  violated  by  its  intrusion,  and  he  awakened  to 
reluctant  thought  of  the  end  which  must  come  to  the  half- 
dreamlike  days,  bringing  uncertainties,  dangers,  and  the 
parting  which  had  grown  more  and  more  unwelcome. 

The  day  of  the  arrival  of  the  evil  tidings  Rava  and 
Maytalca  spent  in  retirement,  and  Cristoval  was  con 
demned  to  solitary  wandering.  His  rambling  did  not  take 
him  far  from  the  hemicycle,  and  he  returned  thither  fre 
quently,  lingering  with  many  a  glance  up  the  avenue; 
then  strolled  again,  or  lounged  where  he  could  view  a  cer 
tain  favored  seat.  He  often  turned  at  fancied  footfalls;  a 
distant  flutter  of  the  garments  of  some  maid  of  the  Palla's 
household  was  strangely  suggestive  of  Rava;  and  more 
than  once  he  was  deceived  by  a  glint  of  bright  sunlight  on 
the  foliage.  Curiously,  the  garden  seemed  haunted  by  dim 
phantasms  of  that  familiar,  graceful  form,  and  after  the 
hundredth  illusion  he  took  himself  to  task :  "  What,  Cris 
toval!  Art  a  boy,  to  go  mooning  along  these  paths, 
starting  at  thine  own  conjurings?  What  aileth  thee? 
Once  thou  wast  good  companion  for  thyself.  Now  thou 
goest  about  peering  and  stretching  thy  neck  into  the 
bushes  like  an  unmated  cock-pheasant.  Come !  Go  saddle 
up  and  ride.  Thou  'rt  in  sore  need  of  exercise,  camarada." 

He  started  back  with  resolution.     As  he  approached 


23o  THE    CRIMSON    CONQUEST 

the  hemicycle  his  steps  slowed,  and  he  halted  in  front  of 
the  seat  where  Rava  had  worked.  There  lay  a  forgotten 
skein  of  thread.  He  picked  it  up,  contemplating  it  with 
an  interest  disproportionate  to  its  importance  or  value. 
Useless  to  try  to  follow  his  thoughts.  It  was  intrinsically 
feminine,  that  trifle,  and  the  soldier  succumbed  to  its  fem 
ininity.  He  drew  a  small  pouch  from  his  bosom  and  placed 
the  skein  beside  the  half-dozen  other  precious  trinkets  it 
contained.  He  closed  the  pouch;  reopened  it  hastily,  re 
moved  the  thread,  and  replaced  it  upon  the  seat  where  he 
had  found  it;  then  sprang  to  his  feet  and  walked  rapidly 
away.  A  half-hour  later  he  was  galloping  along  the  lane 
toward  the  canyon  by  which  they  had  approached  Xilcala 
weeks  ago. 

Now  the  valley,  stirred  for  a  moment  by  the  chasqttVs 
tidings,  sank  again  into  its  repose.  The  mourning  for  the 
defeat  at  Vilcaconga  was  mitigated  by  confidence  in  ulti 
mate  victory.  What  enemy  of  Tavantinsuyu  had  ever  tri 
umphed?  Soon  a  call  to  arms  would  come,  and  the  nation 
would  respond  with  overwhelming  potency.  All  in  good 
time. 

At  the  villa  of  Maytalca  the  days  went  as  before.  But 
—  were  they  days  of  growing  happiness,  or  of  more  rapidly 
growing  pain?  Cristoval  could  not  have  said,  nor  could 
Rava.  He  had  learned  to  interpret  the  evanescent  light  in 
the  brown  eyes  that  so  often  sought  his  own,  but  the  joy  it 
gave  him  was  for  the  instant,  and  followed  at  once  by  a 
deeper  pang.  He  turned  away  from  the  gentle  face  whose 
beauty,  waxing  daily  more  alluring  under  the  tender  burn 
ing  of  the  soul  within,  would  have  shaken  the  knees  of  the 
resolution  of  one  thrice  more  saintly  than  Cristoval.  But 
though  he  told  himself  that  the  parting  must  be  only  a 
question  of  weeks,  though  he  rode  hard  and  invoked  the 
good  San  Antonio,  Cristoval  found  little  peace. 


CHAPTER  XX 
Hearts  Revealed  and  Sundered 

NOW,  when  two  human  hearts  are  throbbing  under 
the  mysterious  influence  of  the  spell  called  Love, 
be  it  noted  that  the  universe  pauses  in  its  ma 
jestic  routine  to  take  a  part.  Our  good  Mother 
Nature  lends  a  more  benevolent  smile.  The  breeze  touches 
with  softer  caress  and  gentler  whispering.  The  trees  and 
herbage  are  greener,  the  flowers  yield  a  sweeter  fragrance 
and  wear  an  added  loveliness.  The  Sun  himself  shines 
with  brighter  effulgence  and  more  generous  warmth ;  at  his 
setting,  paints  the  heavens  and  gray  old  earth  in  hues  of 
unwonted  brilliancy,  and  gives  way  to  twilights  more  ten 
der  than  twilights  seen  at  other  times.  And  the  Moon  — 
what  splendor  in  her  radiance  then!  and  in  the  stars! 
The  world  —  the  non-human  part  of  it,  for  our  fellowmen 
are  often  less  benignant  and  sometimes  roughen  love's 
pathway  most  lamentably  —  the  world  takes  on  new 
charms  and  promises  things  untold;  conspiring  with  the 
insistent  young  archer  and  with  a  thousand  circumstances 
to  lure  the  lovers  on  to  their  silently  coveted  happiness. 
Let  all  mankind  unite  in  a  commanding  "  Nay ! "  yet  the 
two  hear  a  still  voice  in  more  urgent  "  Yea,  yea ! "  and 
read  approval  in  Nature's  kindly  face.  Be  their  resistance 
never  so  strong  in  the  beginning,  it  must  surely  be  over 
come  by  a  fatal  languor  at  a  fatal  moment,  and  the  archer 
triumphs. 

Often,  when  Cristoval  sat  beside  her  in  the  hemicycle 


232  THE    CRIMSON    CONQUEST 

in  meditative  silence,  Rava  would  take  up  Maytalca's 
tiny  a1  and  sing  to  its  accompaniment.  The  melodies 
were  simple,  soft,  and  plaintive,  and  she  sang  with  the 
sympathy  and  sweetness  of  her  nature,  her  voice  quivering 
from  the  fulness  of  her  heart.  The  music  was  the  one  thing 
needful  to  complete  the  agony  of  Cristoval's  self-denial. 
He  heard  her  at  first  with  wonder,  then  with  unaffected 
ravishment. 

One  moonlight  evening  —  alas,  a  moonlight  evening! 
—  Rava  had  been  telling  him  the  great  Peruvian  classic, 
"  Apu-Ollanta."  Ollanta,  the  hero  of  the  drama,  born  in 
obscurity,  had  risen  by  bravery  and  soldierly  skill  to  the 
command  of  the  armies  of  the  Inca  Pachacutec  Yupanqui, 
and  was  his  most  trusted  and  beloved  lieutenant.  In  an  un 
fortunate  hour  he  had  loved  and  gained  the  love  of  Cusi- 
Coyllur,  the  Inca's  daughter.  The  attachment,  forbidden 
by  the  laws  of  Tavantinsuyu  because  of  Ollanta's  ignoble 
birth,  was  punishable  with  death.  It  was  the  story  which 
has  furnished  a  theme  for  poets  through  the  ages.  They 
loved  in  secret,  and  when  at  length  concealment  became 
no  longer  possible,  Ollanta  braved  the  laws  and  the  Inca's 
wrath,  and  demanded  Cusi-Coyllur  in  marriage.  He  was 
denied  and  banished  from  Cuzco,  and  when  a  child  was 
born  to  the  unhappy  princess  she  was  cast  into  prison. 
Ollanta  hurried  to  his  army  in  one  of  the  provinces,  raised 
his  soldiers  in  rebellion,  and  led  them  to  rescue  his  love. 
The  war  raged  through  ten  long  years,  and  after  the  death 
of  Pachacutec  Yupanqui,  was  carried  on  by  his  son.  At 
last  Ollanta,  vanquished  and  a  captive,  was  taken  in  chains 
to  Cuzco;  but  the  young  Inca,  more  generous  than  his 
father,  and  moved  by  the  rebel's  constancy,  pardoned  him 
and  led  him  to  the  dungeon  of  the  princess.  Years  of  con 
finement  and  sorrow  had  aged  her  prematurely,  but  Ollanta 
saw  only  the  long-lost  adored  one  of  his  youth  and  their 
1  Tinya  — a  stringed  instrument  something  like  the  guitar. 


HEARTS  REVEALED  AND  SUNDERED  233 

child,  and  —  well,  they  were  married  and  restored  to 
happiness  and  honor. 

The  story  was  long,  and  Rava  told  it  with  the  simple 
candor  of  innocence,  repeating  with  feeling  and  expression 
quite  without  consciousness  of  self,  those  passages  whose 
beauty  most  appealed  to  her,  from  time  to  time  taking  up 
her  instrument  for  the  songs  in  the  play.  She  finished, 
and  sat  with  hands  clasped,  looking  out  upon  the  moon 
lit  lake,  preoccupied  and  musing,  apparently  expecting  no 
comment  from  Cristoval.  He  had  listened  with  rapt 
attention,  leaning  forward  with  cheek  upon  his  hand,  less 
mindful  of  the  story  itself  than  of  her  low  voice  and  the 
emotion  on  her  sensitive  features.  He  sat  contemplating 
the  calm  beauty  of  the  dark  eyes,  until,  conscious  of  his 
gaze,  she  turned  toward  him.  He  roused  from  his  reverie. 

"  It  is  a  beautiful  story,  Nusta  Rava,"  he  said,  gently 
drawing  the  ttnya  from  her  lap. 

There  was  a  shadow  of  doubt  in  her  look  as  she  re 
plied,  "  Didst  find  it  so,  Cristoval?  It  telleth  little  of  war." 

"  Little  of  war,  to  be  sure,"  he  answered,  failing  to 
notice  her  tone ;  "  but  perhaps  the  better  for  that.  I  have 
heard  its  like  before,"  he  went  on,  fingering  the  strings. 

"Yes?"   she  asked,  with  slight  surprise. 

"Yes,  Nusta  Rava.  Why  not?"  responded  Cristo 
val,  in  turn  surprised  at  the  slight  incredulity  in  her  voice. 
"  Stories  of  hopeless  love  and  happy  endings?  Why  not, 
my  dear?  " 

"  But  do  you  have  love-stories  in  Castile?  I 
thought  —  " 

"  What  didst  think?  We  have  love-stories  and  love- 
songs  a-many." 

"  Thou  hast  never  told  me  one,"  she  said,  with  a  shade 
of  reproach ;  "  nor  have  I  ever  heard  thee  sing  except  of 
soldiers  and  horrid  battles." 

"  Why,  mayhap  't  is  true,"  said  Cristoval,  reflectively. 


234  THE   CRIMSON    CONQUEST 

"  But  I  know  more  of  such  than  of  the  other,  though 
once  —  "  He  paused,  then  added  with  more  of  suppressed 
emphasis  and  resolution  than  seemed  to  be  required,  "  I 
will  sing  thee  one  now,  Nusta  Rava !  " 

He  was  familiar  with  the  guitar,  and  the  tinya  was 
therefore  not  so  strange  that  he  could  not,  without  diffi 
culty,  find  the  chords.  He  had,  moreover,  taken  it  up  when 
Rava  was  not  by,  and  so  made  its  acquaintance;  so  that 
after  retuning  he  picked  out  a  fair  accompaniment  and  be 
gan.  His  song  was  one  of  those  sweet  Spanish  airs  which 
breathe  passion  in  every  line,  and  he  sang  with  true  feel 
ing,  with  the  richness  of  voice  native  to  his  race. 

Rava  listened  to  a  song  utterly  strange  and  in  an  un 
known  tongue.  But  music,  said  to  be  the  universal  lan 
guage,  surely  is  the  universal  language  of  love,  and  her 
heart  beat  in  response  to  every  measure.  Had  she  been 
indifferent  to  the  singer  she  could  not  have  been  unmoved ; 
but  her  unspoken  longing  made  her  doubly  vibrant  to  his 
emotion,  and  the  close  left  her  pale  and  strangely  quiet. 

Cristoval  laid  aside  the  Hnya-  The  moon  was  shining 
full  in  Rava's  face  as  she  leaned  back,  and  he  glanced  into 
eyes  from  which  the  deep  melancholy  had  gone.  They 
were  no  longer  doubtful,  but  swimming  with  happiness 
that  struggled  with  timidity.  The  song  was  a  revelation. 
It  had  solved  the  riddle  of  this  good,  brave  Viracocha, 
and  had  shown  him  a  man.  He  was  no  longer  the 
demigod,  reserved,  with  breast  invulnerable,  but  of  flesh 
and  blood.  She  did  not  need  to  know  the  meaning  of  his 
words.  Every  inflection  had  said  more  than  words.  Her 
own  voice  was  tremulous  and  almost  inaudible. 

"  It  was  a  love-song,  Cristoval?  " 

"  A  love-song,"  he  replied,  looking  away. 

"Then  thou  —  then  the  Viracochas  can  love?"  she 
faltered,  after  a  pause. 

Cristoval  turned    quickly.     "  Can   love,    child ! "    he 


HEARTS  REVEALED  AND  SUNDERED  235 

exclaimed.  "Why,  what  dost  think  us?  Men  without 
souls?" 

"  But  I  mean  tave,  Cristoval,"  she  said,  with  timid 
earnestness.  "  The  love  that  is  not  cruel,  and  merciless, 
and  savage,  like  that  of  the  Viracochas  at  Caxamalca ;  nor 
yet  —  "  She  hesitated,  and  dropped  her  eyes. 

"  Nor  yet?  "  asked  Cristoval,  bending  forward. 

She  looked  at  him  again  waveringly. 

"  Nor  yet?  "   he  persisted.    "  What  wouldst  say?  " 

Her  eyes  fell  once  more.  "  Nor  yet,"  she  murmured, 
"  the  love  that  is  all  unselfishness,  like  that  of  a  father  for 
his  child.  Oh,  Cristoval,  I  know  not  what  I  would  say,  but 
there  was  in  the  song  what  I  thought  the  Viracochas 
could  not  feel." 

He  replied  impetuously:  "Thou  hast  thought  that? 
Thou  hast  dreamed  we  could  not  love?  Shall  I  tell  thee 
how  we  can  love?  We  can  worship,  Nusta  Rava,  and  yet, 
hopeless,  be  silent  until  death  were  happiness." 

She  regarded  him  in  wonder.  "  Hopeless,  Cristoval?  " 
she  asked,  in  a  voice  so  low  that  he  barely  heard  it,  and 
the  question  threw  him  off  his  guard.  He  answered  it 
quickly  and  desperately,  and  in  giving  voice  to  the  tor 
ture  of  his  soul  for  weeks,  forgot  to  be  impersonal. 

"  Hopeless ! "  he  repeated,  turning  away  again. 
"How  else?  What  art  thou?  —  a  princess.  And  I?  —  " 
He  stopped.  When  he  looked  again  his  eyes  met  that  in 
hers  which  a  lover  should  be  willing  to  give  his  life  to  see. 
Darkened  by  the  moonlight,  they  regarded  him  with 
strange,  intent  abstraction,  serious,  gentle,  and  ineffably 
fond.  This  time  Cristoval  did  not  turn  away.  He  must 
have  been  more  than  human  —  or  less  —  to  have  turned 
away. 

For  an  instant,  as  a  drowning  man  reviews  a  lifetime, 
he  had  a  hundred  thoughts  of  deprecation,  each  a  stab. 
He  spurned  them.  The  dross  of  common  things  faded  into 


236  THE    CRIMSON    CONQUEST 

due  perspective.  The  world's  cares  and  dangers  grew 
shadowy.  His  hands  sought  hers.  As  they  yielded,  the 
deep  eyes  deepened,  and  her  lips  parted  with  a  sigh, 
almost  a  sob. 

The  tinya  had  slipped  to  the  ground  at  their  feet. 
Rava  unclasped  her  hands  from  his  neck  and  drew  back  her 
head  to  look  into  his  eyes.  "  Ah,  Cristoval,  then  thou 
canst  love?  —  truly,  thou  canst  love,  and  dost  love  me?" 

Cristoval  kissed  the  upturned  lips  and  eyes  and  brow. 
"  God  knoweth  I  love  thee,  Rava,  and  have  loved  thee  long. 
I  had  not  purposed  to  tell  thee." 

"  That  would  have  been  wrong  and  cruel,"  said  Rava. 
"  Why  wouldst  thou  not  have  told  me?  " 

"  I  thought  we  must  part,  my  own,  and  would  have 
spared  thee  an  aching  heart." 

"  Thou  wouldst  have  denied  me  the  only  solace  for 
a  broken  heart,"  she  sighed,  clinging  more  closely.  "  But 
now,  we  shall  never  part,  Cristoval." 

"  Never !  Never,  with  the  help  of  Heaven ! "  he 
whispered. 

But  at  length,  the  leave-taking  for  the  night.  A  score 
of  leave-takings  before  the  last  wafted  kiss  from  her  door 
way,  and  the  beloved  form  vanished  in  its  shadow.  Then 
Cristoval,  alone,  sought  to  realize  his  happiness.  In  his 
room  he  raised  his  sword,  and  kissed  its  hilt  —  the  soldier's 
cross. 

Ware  happiness  complete!  Evil  hath  no  harbinger 
more  sure.  Their  glimpse  of  it  was  fleeting,  as  always. 
Even  while  they  dreamed  it  would  endure,  the  blow  was 
falling.  One  day,  a  second,  and  a  third  —  days  with  hours 
like  minutes,  speeding  on  so  quickly  to  the  evening,  the 
evening  so  quickly  into  night,  that  the  lovers  seemed  hardly 
met  before  it  was  time  to  part  again  and  lie  in  fevered 


HEARTS  REVEALED  AND  SUNDERED  237 

longing  for  the  dawn,  each  with  a  thousand  thoughts  un 
told.  Ah,  Time!  Capricious,  perverse  and  always  cruel; 
swift  as  light  when  the  moments  are  of  joy ;  grudging  and 
niggardly  in  their  measure  when  mortals  would  have  them 
long;  but  unsparing,  lavish,  prodigal,  when  thou  metest 
hours  of  sorrow ! 

Again  a  moonlit  evening.  They  had  said  good-night 
and  parted.  Hours  had  passed;  Cristoval  was  sitting  be 
side  his  lamp,  whose  waning  light  drew  his  thoughts  back 
to  earth ;  even  while  he  contemplated  its  struggles  it  sput 
tered  and  died,  leaving  the  room  in  darkness.  He  sighed, 
loath  to  lay  aside  his  reverie,  and  stepped  to  the  window. 
The  moon  was  nearly  at  the  full,  and  he  leaned  against  the 
casement,  looking  across  the  placid  lake  to  the  silvered 
peaks  beyond.  He  stood  long,  enjoying  the  fresh  beauty 
of  the  night,  his  eyes  among  the  shadows  of  the  garden 
where  he  had  crowned  his  life.  While  he  mused  a  cloud 
drifted  across  the  moon,  leaving  the  garden  a  moment  in 
obscurity.  When  it  passed  and  the  light  returned,  he  was 
startled  out  of  his  dreaming.  The  details  of  shade  and 
illumination  had  come  back,  but  now  there  was  something 
more.  Near  the  edge  of  the  shrubbery,  half  a  hundred 
yards  below,  was  a  formless  shadow  not  there  before. 
Cristoval  leaned  forward,  studying  intently  a  curious  blot 
on  the  sward,  suggestive  of  some  lurking  beast,  yet  differ 
ent.  It  moved,  ever  so  slightly,  and  the  confused  outline 
became  suddenly  clear.  There  was  the  head  of  a  warrior, 
stretched  alertly  forward,  and  wearing  the  high,  conical 
helm  of  a  Canare.  There  was  the  line  of  his  crouched  back. 
One  hand  and  a  knee  were  on  the  ground.  Now  there  was 
a  sparkle  just  above  —  a  javelin  head !  —  and  at  the  same 
instant  an  arm  was  raised  in  signal.  At  once  other  shadows 
appeared  here  and  there,  and  they  slunk,  half  running, 
toward  the  villa. 

Cristoval  watched  no  longer.      In  a  second  he  was 


238  THE   CRIMSON    CONQUEST 

groping  for  his  armor.  His  hands  were  shaking,  but  soon 
corselet  was  on,  and  helmet:  no  time  for  more.  Now, 
sword  and  buckler.  He  threw  the  empty  scabbard  on  the 
couch  as  he  rushed  to  the  door.  In  the  anteroom  slept 
Markumi. 

"  Markumi !  Markumi !  "  Cristoval  whispered,  shak 
ing  him. 

"  Yes,  Viracocha,"  said  the  youth,  sleepily. 

"  Up,  Markumi !  Make  no  sound.  Quick  —  thy 
weapons,  and  follow !  " 

Markumi  needed  no  second  word.  Electrified  by  the 
cavalier's  voice,  he  was  on  his  feet  at  a  bound.  Cristoval 
had  not  reached  the  door  leading  into  the  court,  which  he 
must  cross  to  gain  Rava's  apartment,  before  the  boy  was 
beside  him,  grunting  as  he  slipped  the  loop  of  the  bow 
string  into  its  notch.  Cristoval  halted,  listening.  Without 
were  movement  and  suppressed  voices.  As  he  put  hand 
to  the  bar  to  open,  the  fastenings  creaked  with  the  weight 
of  some  one  trying.  Across  the  court  came  the  crash  of 
blows  upon  another  door. 

Markumi  gasped,  "What  is  it,  Viracocha?" 

"  Devilry !  "  answered  Cristoval.  "  The  house  is  sur 
rounded.  Canares,  I  think."  The  words  were  not  uttered 
before  the  room  reverberated  with  a  rain  of  strokes  upon 
the  panels  before  them. 

"  Set  an  arrow ! "  said  Cristoval,  in  Markumi's  ear. 
"  Stand  clear  of  the  door  when  I  throw  it  open.  Do  not 
follow.  Keep  in  the  darkness,  and  shoot  low." 

Markumi  hurriedly  set  his  arrow,  grateful  that  the 
darkness  hid  his  shaking  legs.  The  cavalier  released  the 
bar  and  sprang  back.  The  door  flew  wide,  letting  in  a 
sudden  flare  of  torches,  and  two  half-naked  forms  plunged 
in  headlong.  The  first  ran  full  upon  Cristoval's  point. 
The  second  was  shot  through  by  Markumi.  With  a  shout 
a  throng  filled  the  doorway.  A  javelin  whizzed  past 


HEARTS  REVEALED  AND  SUNDERED  239 

CristovaTs  ear;  another,  and  another.  Markumi's  bow 
twanged,  a  Cafiare  fell,  and  the  cavalier  dashed  forward, 
his  buckler  ringing  with  the  quick  thrusts  of  spears,  his 
sword  playing  swift  and  deadly.  A  gasp  or  moan  followed 
every  lunge  at  the  unarmored  bodies.  Shielding  his  head 
he  pressed  close  upon  the  group,  cut  through,  and  was  in 
the  open.  A  pause  of  half  a  second,  and  he  found  himself 
the  centre  of  a  confused  surging  of  warriors,  their  limbs 
and  dark,  ferocious  faces  illumined  by  the  dancing  light  of 
torches.  The  court  seemed  full,  resounding  with  the  up 
roar  from  savage  throats.  Now  a  fiercer  yell,  and  they 
closed.  So  dense  the  mass  none  dared  hurl  his  javelin, 
but  they  pressed  from  all  sides,  and  for  an  instant  Cris- 
toval  staggered  under  the  impact  of  their  weapons  upon 
his  shield  and  mail.  As  they  rushed,  shriek  upon  shriek, 
half  smothered  by  the  walls  of  the  opposite  wing  of  the 
villa,  cut  to  his  heart  with  a  sudden  deadly  chill  —  Rava ! 

The  chill  was  followed  by  a  flame  more  quick,  and 
Cristoval  became  a  demon.  He  charged  into  the  thickset, 
thrusting  from  beneath  his  upraised  buckler,  the  thin, 
glimmering  steel  finding  flesh  at  every  stroke.  It  flashed 
low,  reaching  its  mark  under  lifted  arms :  a  dull  ray  of  light, 
with  the  velocity  of  light  itself;  a  chameleon's  tongue,  its 
gleam  barely  seen  for  its  fatal  quickness.  For  a  moment 
he  seemed  to  struggle  hopelessly.  Hedged  about,  he  la 
bored  heavily,  impeded  by  mere  weight  of  numbers,  lacer 
ated  from  elbow  to  shoulder  by  their  spears,  the  grip  of  his 
weapon  slippery  with  his  own  blood.  Hands  clutched  to 
wrench  his  buckler  from  his  grasp.  Once  it  was  swept 
aside,  and  he  looked  into  the  eyes  of  a  Cafiare  in  the  head 
gear  of  a  chieftain :  saw  the  glitter  of  a  falling  axe.  It  fell, 
glanced  from  his  helmet,  and  struck  with  stunning  force 
upon  his  shoulder  —  by  the  grace  of  Heaven,  not  upon  his 
right !  The  chief  went  down,  his  naked  body  run  through, 
and  the  circle  widened.  A  javelin  glanced  from  the  shield, 


24o  THE    CRIMSON    CONQUEST 

and  impaled  a  Cafiare  beyond.  Another,  thrown  with  ter 
rific  force,  shivered  against  his  breastplate. 

But  for  his  mail  the  cavalier  would  not  have  lived 
through  a  dozen  paces.  He  was  breathing  in  gasps,  his 
arm  stiffening  with  its  wounds.  Warriors  whirled  around 
him,  yielding  here  before  the  lightning  blade ;  closing  there 
and  forcing  him  to  fight  to  the  rear.  From  the  doorway 
Markumi  had  sped  his  last  arrow  and  fled.  Every  shaft 
had  carried  death.  Cristoval  fought,  not  with  hope,  not  in 
despair,  but  in  madness  to  reach  and  save  his  love;  in  a 
frenzy  to  kill,  kill,  kill,  while  a  man  lived  to  interpose. 
All  at  once  he  became  conscious  of  a  growing  light.  The 
villa  was  afire!  A  torch  had  been  set  to  the  roof  of  the 
main  building,  and  the  thatch  blazed  high,  a  column  of 
rosy  smoke  curling  toward  the  quiet  stars.  Half  across 
the  court  his  eye  caught  the  gleam  of  a  morion.  A  Spaniard 
dashed  from  a  door,  followed  by  two  others  bearing  a 
senseless  form.  For  the  first  time  Cristoval  gave  voice, 
and  his  roar  overtopped  the  din.  The  first  Spaniard 
stopped,  glanced  toward  the  struggle,  then  rushed  for 
ward  with  a  shout,  followed  by  one  of  the  others,  leaving 
their  burden  to  the  third.  Straight  to  thy  doom,  Juan 
Lopez ! 

He  sprang  through  the  mob,  sweeping  the  Canares 
from  his  path,  and  whirling  aloft  his  halberd.  Cristoval 
rushed  upon  him.  The  axe  fell,  was  caught  upon  the  buck 
ler,  and  Cristoval  drove  his  sword  into  the  Spaniard's 
throat,  jerked  it  out,  and  while  the  other  tottered,  drove  it 
home  again  with  all  the  force  lent  his  arm  by  hate. 

It  was  the  end.  While  he  strove  to  disengage  his 
blade  the  Canares  swept  upon  him.  He  was  down.  On  his 
knees  he  still  fought,  creeping  a  few  inches  toward  his 
beloved,  then  sank  beneath  a  war  club  whose  force  even 
his  helmet  could  not  ward.  While  his  brain  reeled  he 
heard  the  yell  of  triumph,  growing  distant  to  his  ears,  and 


241 

the  world  ceased  to  be.  A  score  of  hands  clutched  to  tear 
him  to  pieces,  struck  back  by  the  second  halberdier. 

"Off,  dogs!  He  is  mine.  —  Hola,  Duero!  We  have 
him !  —  A  thousand  castellanosl " 

He  stopped.  A  Canare  reeled  against  him  in  a  spasm 
of  coughing,  tugging  at  the  shaft  of  an  arrow  in  his  chest. 
In  another  moment  the  Spaniard  had  been  forced  away 
from  Cristoval  by  a  rush  of  the  tribesmen,  and  arrows  and 
javelins  whistled  about  him  from  the  darkness  outside  the 
court.  He  heard  Duero  calling  and  swearing,  a  fierce  yell 
from  the  gloom  surrounding  the  villa,  and  a  storm 
of  missiles  swept  the  court,  whose  tumult  became  a 
pandemonium, 

Xilcala  had  been  roused.  One  of  the  household  had 
given  alarm,  and  the  flames  brought  the  villagers  on  wings. 
The  conflagration  wrought  its  own  punishment:  every 
Canare  in  the  court  revealed  by  the  mounting  flames,  the 
garden  in  blackness.  A  merciless  hail  assailed  the  ravagers 
from  the  obscurity,  and  they  were  seized  with  panic  —  a 
mere  tossing  herd,  stampeded  by  a  foe  unseen,  dropping 
by  twos  and  threes  beneath  the  deadly  rain.  Yells,  the 
crackling  flames,  and  the  shouts  of  the  invisible  assailants 
made  the  garden  a  horror. 

The  halberdier  fought  his  way  to  Duero's  side,  and 
they  stood  in  consternation.  The  still  unconscious  Rava 
had  been  drawn  into  the  doorway.  With  a  motion  to  his 
companion  Duero  picked  her  up,  and  they  groped  through 
the  smoke-filled  building  into  the  shrubbery  in  front,  and 
were  away. 

Clear  of  the  garden,  they  made  a  detour  to  pass  the 
village,  halting  once  to  bind  and  gag  the  Nusta  as  they 
hurried  toward  the  gorge.  A  mile  beyond  the  town  they 
joined  a  small  party  of  Spaniards  and  Canares  in  conceal 
ment  beside  the  road.  Duero  replied  to  their  questions 
with  a  comprehensive  curse.  "  Move,  blockheads !  "  he 

16 


242  THE    CRIMSON    CONQUEST 

roared.  "  Fetch  the  litter.  Before  ye  finish  gawping  they 
will  be  upon  us.  Hell  is  uncovered,  d'  ye  hear?  Fetch  the 
litter." 

A  hamaca  was  brought,  Rava  thrust  into  it,  and  the 
curtains  drawn.  Two  Canares  took  it  up,  and  the  party 
hurried  away. 

At  the  entrance  of  the  gorge  they  crossed  the  stream 
by  a  bridge  of  twisted  osiers.  On  the  farther  side  they 
hacked  with  their  halberds  until  the  structure  hung,  a 
wreck,  from  its  opposite  anchorage.  It  would  cut  off  the 
retreat  of  their  allies,  but  would  delay  pursuit,  for  the  tor 
rent  was  unfordable.  Their  route  was  down  the  gorge. 
Toward  morning  they  crossed  and  destroyed  another 
bridge,  then  proceeded  in  security. 

The  conflict  raged  about  the  villa  until  the  Canares 
retreated  to  the  mountains,  leaving  their  wounded  and 
dead.  The  villagers  turned  to  the  flames,  tore  away  the 
thatch,  and  saved  the  wings  of  the  house,  but  of  the  main 
portion  only  blackened  walls  remained.  Until  Maytalca 
was  found,  imprisoned  with  her  maids  in  a  room  remote 
from  the  flames,  the  capture  of  Rava  was  unknown,  and 
Duero's  party  had  gained  several  miles  the  start.  Pursuit, 
delayed  at  the  first  bridge,  was  balked  completely  at  the 
second,  and  forced  into  a  circuitous  mountain  path  before 
it  could  come  again  upon  the  raiders'  trail.  The  flight  was 
toward  Xauxa,  but  by  the  third  day  the  pursuers  found 
themselves  impeded  by  prowling  Canares.  Forced  again 
to  the  mountain  trails,  the  chase  was  hopeless. 

Markumi  found  Cristoval,  and  with  assistance  bore 
him,  almost  lifeless,  to  Huallampo's  villa.  For  the  second 
time  he  was  hovering  upon  the  brink,  and  for  days  the  aged 
healer  summoned  by  the  curaca  answered  the  villagers  with 
a  dubious  shake  of  his  head. 


CHAPTER  XXI 
The  Senora  Descends  upon  Pedro 

WE  go  forward  to  find  ourselves  at  Xauxa,  a 
week  subsequent  to  the  catastrophe  at  Xil- 
cala,  months  after  Pizarro's  march  to  Cuzco. 
The  town  lies  on  the  river  Xauxa,  a 
branch  of  the  great  Apurimac,  in  one  of  the  many  fertile 
valleys,  or  bolsons,  that  break  the  arid  desolation  of  the 
Sierra.  Pizarro  had  found  it  well  defended  by  the  immense 
fortress  on  the  steeps  of  an  adjacent  mountain.  He  left 
it  with  a  small  garrison,  as  has  appeared.  With  this 
remained  the  sick  and  incapacitated,  and  most  of  the  non- 
combatants.  Among  these  were  Pedro,  who,  since  the 
escape  of  Peralta,  was  no  longer  persona  grata,  and  felt  more 
secure  away  from  the  commander ;  Jose  remained  invalided 
by  an  attack  of  the  fever;  Father  Tendilla,  as  missionary 
to  the  natives ;  and  Rogelio,  the  <veedor,  who  tarried  for 
reasons  best  known  to  himself.  Rogelio,  however,  pleaded 
an  indisposition  which,  as  a  civil  officer  of  the  Crown  and 
a  man  with  a  family,  he  could  not  conscientiously  neglect ; 
and  from  his  couch  in  his  quarters  within  the  fortress,  bade 
farewell  in  a  voice  of  feebleness  and  suffering.  When 
assured  that  the  last  company  had  marched  he  rolled  out 
of  bed  and  dressed  in  time  to  watch  the  command  from  the 
rampart  as  it  trailed  down  to  the  town  below.  He  shook 
a  fist  at  the  distant  figure  he  knew  to  be  Mendoza's,  rubbed 
his  hands,  snuffled,  and  emitted  a  chuckle  of  mingled  glee, 
triumph,  and  malice.  An  hour  afterward  he  was  haggling 
with  Duero  and  Mani-mani,  a  sub-chief  of  the  Caiiares. 


244  THE    CRIMSON    CONQUEST 

For  several  days  the  garrison  remained  within  the 
fortress.  A  fortnight  later  word  came  that  Prince  Manco 
had  met  Pizarro  peaceably  at  Xaquixaguana,  and  had  pre 
sented  his  claim  to  the  throne.  His  right  had  been  formally 
recognized,  and  the  prince  was  proceeding  with  the  Span 
iards  to  Cuzco,  where  the  coronation  would  take  place 
straightway.  Accompanying  the  news  was  his  command 
that  all  hostility  should  cease,  and  soon  natives  and  garri 
son  were  on  friendly  terms.  Those  Spaniards  privileged  to 
do  so  took  quarters  in  the  town,  and  among  them  was 
Pedro. 

Pedro  established  his  cantina  near  the  square.  One 
afternoon  he  was  leaning  idly  beside  his  door,  watching 
the  passers-by,  with  an  occasional  glance  down  the  thor 
oughfare  toward  the  north.  A  chasqui  had  announced  the 
day  before  that  a  small  company  of  Viracochas  was  ap 
proaching,  newly  arrived  from  Panama,  on  the  way  to 
join  Pizarro.  The  cantina  was  prepared,  and  a  roast  of  llama 
on  Pedrillo's  spit  divided  the  attention  which  the  proprietor 
paid  to  the  street.  The  latter  was  interesting,  for  the  day 
was  a  festival  of  some  sort  and  the  town  was  full  of  the 
country  people,  gayly  clad,  and  notwithstanding  recent 
calamities,  in  full  holiday  spirits.  As  Pedro  stood  he  noted 
that  the  crowd  was  growing.  By  and  by  he  observed  that 
his  establishment  was  drawing  a  deal  of  persistent  atten 
tion.  No  one  had  stopped  in  front  of  it,  but  a  number  had 
passed  and  repassed,  and  one  Indio,  conspicuous  for  his 
dignity  of  bearing,  had  already  grown  familiar.  He  was  a 
tall  old  man,  wrapped  in  a  long,  colored  poncho  of  unusual 
elegance,  its  heavy  folds  falling  to  his  knees  and  decorated 
with  a  profusion  of  conventionalized  forms  of  birds  and 
beasts.  The  object  of  particular  interest  to  Pedro,  how 
ever,  was  his  suite.  Following  close  as  he  stalked  past  for 
the  sixth  or  seventh  time,  was  his  wife;  and  in  her  train 
a  numerous  family  ranging  in  age  from  five  to  eighteen 


THE  SENORA  DESCENDS  ON  PEDRO     245 

years  or  thereabout,  the  eldest  a  maiden  of  comely  face  and 
figure  who  glanced  at  the  cook  with  shy  but  unmistakable 
curiosity.  The  old  man  seemed  never  to  see  him,  appar 
ently  disdaining  show  of  interest ;  but  his  family  were  less 
scrupulous,  and  favored  him  with  stares  undisguised.  This 
group  was  but  one  of  many,  but  it  was  notable  to  Pedro  by 
the  presence  of  the  shy  though  curious  eighteen-year-old 
of  the  comeliness  mentioned.  Pedro  was  not  unsuscepti 
ble.  Having  once  or  twice  caught  her  eyes,  he  straightway 
experienced  a  responding  interest. 

"  Ho!  "  thought  he.  "  How  now?  Have  thy  charms 
survived  thy  years,  Pedro,  my  boy?  Are  there  yet  lines  of 
grace  in  thy  portliness?  That  was  a  wistful,  surrepti 
tious,  yearning  contemplation,  or  there's  some  mistake. 
It  swept  thy  traits  and  fair  proportions  most  lingeringly. 
—  Ha!  She  cometh  again!  Stew  me  if  she  cometh  not 
again!  Hold!  Guard  thine  eyes,  admired  cook.  Bank 
their  fires,  lest  they  startle  with  too  much  ardour.  I  '11 
look  at  the  sky  till  she  is  near.  Ah!  Fair  sky!  Ample, 
roomy,  easy-fitting  vault  of  blue!  Large,  capacious 
dome !  Dome  with  space  enough  for  stars  to  knock  about 
in,  and  space  to  spare —  But  she  is  here!  Now  look! 
Oh,  hot  kettles,  Pedro,  how  comfortable  thou  art! 
Was  there  not  warmth  in  that  stolen  glance?  O,  my 
patron  saint!  —  But  who  is  she  —  and  where  abideth? 
That  patrolling  image  in  her  lead  must  be  her  papa.  I  '11 
inquire." 

With  his  jovial  countenance  glowing  pleasantly  he  cast 
about  for  a  possible  source  of  information,  and  his  eyes 
lighted  upon  a  youth  across  the  street  who  was  surveying 
him  with  unmitigated  wonder,  his  eyes  and  mouth  equally 
broad  open.  Pedro  motioned  him,  and  the  boy  started 
hesitatingly  across  the  street.  At  once  the  interest  of  the 
crowd  was  fixed,  and  they  formed  a  respectful  circle, 
across  which  the  lad  advanced  with  evident  trepidation. 


246  THE    CRIMSON    CONQUEST 

Pedro  had  acquaintance  with  the  Quichua,  and  hailed  him 
cordially. 

"  May  the  day  bring  thee  good  fortune,  and  the  night 
better,  my  lad.  Come  hither.  There  is  something  I  would 
ask.  This  seemeth  a  gala  day,  is  it  not? 

"  The  Feast  of  the  Full  Moon,  Viracocha,"  replied  the 
boy,  respectfully. 

"The  Feast  of  the  Full  Moon!  Good!  Dost  live  in 
Xauxa?" 

"  No,  Viracocha.  I  am  here  but  for  the  day.  I  live 
yonder,  up  the  valley,"  indicating  the  direction  by  turning 
and  pursing  out  his  lips,  a  gesture  habitual  with  the  Peru 
vians,  and  surviving  to  this  day. 

"  Yonder,  up  the  valley !  "  said  Pedro,  imitating  his 
grimace.  "  Hum !  Thou  'rt  a  good  boy,  I  take  it  from  thy 
face.  Sleepest  at  home,  and  early?  " 

"  Why,  where  else,  Viracocha? "  asked  the  other 
innocently. 

"  Ah !  Where  else,  to  be  sure !  But  in  my  country  o* 
nights,  the  boys  oft  go  chasing  nightingales  —  a  bird  which 
I  have  not  yet  seen  in  Tavantinsuyu.  'T  is  quite  as  well. 
But  what  I  would  ask  is  this:  The  folks  seem  curious. 
Now,  what  draweth  their  attention  hereabout?  What 
held  thy  lower  jaw  away  from  its  fellow  a  moment  since  ?  " 

"  Viracocha?  "  asked  the  boy,  puzzled. 

"  I  observed  thee  looking  this  way.  What  is  the  in 
terest  which  hath  brought  this  crowd  ?  " 

"  Oh !  "  exclaimed  the  youth,  enlightened.  "  Why, 
you  are  one  of  the  Viracochas  —  your  pardon." 

"  No  offence,"  answered  Pedro.  "  A  mere  chance 
which  hath  befallen  others  of  my  race.  Is  that  all?  " 

The  boy  hesitated.  "  No,  not  all.  The  bare  bone  of 
your  leg,  Viracocha  —  " 

"  Oho!  "  shouted  Pedro.  "  The  bare  bone  of  my  leg ! 
God  bless  my  soul !  The  bare  bone  of  my  leg,  for  a  surety ! 


THE  SENORA  DESCENDS  ON  PEDRO  247 

Why,  stew  me !  Now,  't  is  a  sight,  is  it  not  —  to  see  a  man 
with  a  part  of  his  skeleton  sticking  out  into  the  glare  of 
day !  But,  lad,  what  if  I  were  to  show  thee  my  ribs?  Nay !  " 
he  added,  as  the  boy  drew  back  aghast.  "  I  '11  not  do  it  in 
the  presence  of  ladies,  never  fear.  Ha!  The  bare  bone 
of —  But  is  that  all?"  He  lowered  his  voice.  "Yonder 
damsel,  for  instance,  just  now  passing  —  do  not  look  too 
quickly  —  hath  she  been  drawn  by  my  leg,  thinkst  thou  ?  " 

The  boy  looked  round  cautiously  at  the  girl  lingering 
at  the  edge  of  the  circle.  "  I  cannot  say  for  her,"  he  said, 
"  but  if  the  Viracocha  wisheth,  I  will  ask  her,"  and  full  of 
accommodation,  he  started  in  her  direction. 

"  Stay!  "  cried  Pedro,  seizing  him.  "Santa Maria,  no! 
Let  it  pass.  I  '11  endure  the  doubt.  —  The  bare  bone  of  my 
leg,  saith  he !  Oh,  pots  and  skillets ! "  Pedro  exhibited 
some  symptoms  of  a  coming  laugh,  but  the  attack  did  not 
develop,  and  he  went  on :  "A  marvel,  in  truth !  But  if  it 
hath  merited  so  much  attention  I  '11  show  it  worthy  of 
more." 

Steadying  himself  upon  the  boy's  shoulder,  Pedro  un 
screwed  his  peg  from  its  socket,  and  as  an  exclamation  of 
amazement  and  dismay  arose  from  the  crowd,  tossed  it 
high  in  the  air,  caught  it,  and  set  it  whirling  in  his  nimble 
fingers.  The  circle  spread  abruptly.  The  old  Indio  forgot 
his  dignity  and  watched  in  stupefaction  while  the  cook 
juggled  his  member  with  the  skill  of  a  mountebank. 
Transforming  it  into  a  weapon,  he  attacked  a  fancied 
enemy,  hopping  about,  striking,  and  guarding,  until  the  foe 
was  laid  low  by  one  last  fell  stroke.  From  the  role  of  a 
weapon  it  passed  to  that  of  a  flute,  and  as  Pedro's  fingers 
ran  over  imaginary  keys  he  whistled  a  Spanish  air,  then 
one  of  their  own,  to  their  infinite  wonder  and  delight.  He 
finished  with  a  bow  to  the  old  Indio,  and  tendered  the  peg 
for  inspection.  It  was  taken  gingerly,  and  the  ice  was 
broken. 


248  THE   CRIMSON   CONQUEST 

The  old  man  examined  it  with  profound  solemnity, 
while  his  daughter  looked  upon  the  gracious  cook  with  a 
round-eyed  fascination  most  grateful  to  his  complacent 
soul.  It  ended  with  an  invitation  into  the  cantina,  and, 
having  screwed  his  peg  back  into  place,  Pedro  ushered  in 
the  entire  family  and  served  a  luncheon,  at  the  end  of 
which  he  was  asked  to  their  huasi,  six  miles  out  beyond  the 
fortress.  The  Indio,  Municancha,  was  a  master-mason 
engaged  upon  the  uncompleted  fortifications.  Thus  the 
cook  opened  an  acquaintance  which  he  afterward  found  of 
value. 

Pedro  bade  his  guests  farewell,  bestowing  a  signifi 
cant  squeeze  upon  the  hand  of  the  daughter,  Coriampa, 
and  was  pleasantly  reviewing  the  circumstance,  when  a 
shout  from  his  boy  at  the  door  hurried  him  to  the  street. 
His  expected  countrymen  were  approaching.  A  distant 
flutter  of  pennons  and  the  gleam  of  steel  showed  above 
the  heads  of  the  crowd,  and  soon  Pedro  was  cheering  lus 
tily  as  the  company  passed.  In  the  lead  rode  Sotelo,  the 
commander  of  the  company,  with  Saavedra,  commandant 
of  the  fortress,  his  travel-stained  accoutrements  contrast 
ing  with  the  latte^s  burnished  armor.  Following,  and 
escorted  by  Father  Tendilla,  were  half-a-dozen  priests 
and  friars,  a  few  on  mules  and  jaded  horses,  but  most  of 
them  on  foot.  As  they  passed,  Pedro  suddenly  ceased  his 
greetings. 

"Aha!  Thou  back,  Fray  Mauriciol"  he  muttered. 
"  Hast  renewed  thy  courage  and  venom,  my  small,  liver- 
colored  brother?  I  'd  exchange  thee  for  the  devil  himself, 
my  friend,  and  so  would  Jose,  had  he  his  choice.  Would 
thou  wert  back  in  Spain  —  or  farther !  I  '11  warn  the  ar 
morer,  be  sure  of  it.  And  now,  the  cavaliers  —  two,  four, 
six,  eight.  Not  bad!  But,  father  of  famine,  what  a  hun 
gry  lot!  Holal"  he  shouted.  "What  fare  on  the  way, 
compadres?  Saddle-leather  and  surcingles,  I  '11  be  bound. 


THE  SENORA  DESCENDS  ON  PEDRO     249 

Cheer  up!  There's  better  beyond.  Come,  smile  thou, 
my  empty  cabattero  in  the  rear !  In  a  week  thy  waistband 
will  renew  acquaintance  with  thy  pansiere.  There 's  that 
in  Peru  to  fill  it,  and  some  to  be  left  over  for  the  infan 
try.  Oho!  Here  they  are  —  our  honest  lads  of  the  foot! 
Twenty  in  all  —  and  that  is  to  say,  twenty  larcenies  the 
more  for  each  day  of  the  calendar.  Bienl  Were  there  no 
thieves  we  'd  have  no  love  for  honest  men.  What  cheer, 
pikemen?  Did  ye  ever  see  a  cold  boiled  ham?  Ah,  see 
them  drool !  They  're  blest  with  powers  of  memory,  't  is 
sure.  What,  ho!  A  civilian!  A  leech,  amigo?  No?  A 
barber !  —  next  of  kin.  Gractas  a  Dtos,  a  barber !  Fall  out, 
my  friend ;  thy  journey  endeth  here." 

A  weary  individual  in  civil  garb,  his  legs  bare  to  the 
knees  but  for  the  fringe  of  rags  that  fell  below  them,  turned 
out  of  the  column.  1 

"  Nombre  de  Dtos  I  Is  this  an  inn?"  he  asked  in  as 
tonishment,  peering  through  the  open  door  and  sniffing 
the  fragrance. 

"  An  inn,  and  no  less.  An  inn,  and  no  more,"  replied 
Pedro.  "  Enter.  Thou  'rt  as  welcome  to  it  as  the  smell  of 
it  seemeth  to  be  to  thee." 

The  stranger  shook  his  head.  "  I  have  no  money, 
Senor." 

"  The  fiend!  "  ejaculated  Pedro.  "  But  thou  hast  an 
appetite,  or  thy  looks  belie  thee.  Enter,  and  call  for  what 
there  is.  Thy  credit  is  good.  Are  there  any  others  — 
civilians?  " 

"  My  gratitude,  Senor,"  said  the  other,  with  feeling. 
"  Yes,  there  are  four  in  the  rear  of  the  baggage,  and  three 
women  with  the  rear  guard." 

"  Three  women !  "  repeated  Pedro.  "  Native  women, 
thou  wouldst  say?  " 

"  Of  our  own  race,  Senor." 

"  What !  "  exclaimed  Pedro,  in  amazement.     "  Three 


250  THE    CRIMSON    CONQUEST 

Spanish  women?  Santo  Sacramento !  sayst  thou  so?  What 
do  they  in  this  land  of  paynimry?  Oh,  these  modern 
women ! " 

"Two  are  wives  of  cavaliers.  The  third  is  alone. 
And,  Senor  "  —  he  spoke  earnestly  —  "  beware  of  this 
third." 

"  Ho !  "  responded  Pedro,  with  a  shrug.  "  I  have  all 
my  feathers,  amigo" 

"  Nay ;  but,  Senor  —  "  he  was  interrupted  by  the  jubi 
lant  bray  of  a  pack-mule  which  had  divined  the  end  of  the 
march.  When  he  would  have  continued  Pedro  was  bad 
gering  a  muleteer.  The  stranger  entered  the  antina —  and 
Fate  rode  down  upon  the  unsuspecting  Pedro. 

The  rear  guard  approached.  Sure  enough,  there  were 
three  senoras,  two  heavily  veiled,  riding  mules.  Pedro 
was  bowing  profoundly. 

"  Welcome,  Senoras !  Welcome  to  the  land  of  gold. 
'Tis  a  Heaven's  blessing  to  look  once  more  upon  your 
kind." 

They  inclined  their  heads  graciously  and  Pedro  raised 
his  eyes  to  the  third,  some  paces  in  the  rear.  As  he  bowed 
again  he  was  conscious  of  a  buxom  figure,  strangely  be- 
dight  in  a  rusty  corselet  and  a  man's  sombrero  which 
showed  marks  of  the  hard  journey,  its  limp  rim  hanging 
low  about  a  face  which  he  saw  only  partly.  She  was 
astride,  he  noted,  with  a  huge  battle-axe  at  her  saddle-bow, 
and  a  ponderous  spur  on  a  foot  of  goodly  size. 

The  lady  glanced  at  him,  gasped,  reined  up  with  vigor, 
and  shouted  in  a  voice  of  joyful  surprise,  "  Pedro  !  " 

Pedro  straightened  with  a  jerk  and  staggered  against 
the  wall. 

"Pedro!"  she  shouted  again.  She  urged  her  steed 
across  the  street  with  a  series  of  jabs  of  her  spurs,  and 
tumbled  out  of  the  saddle,  a  confusion  of  petticoats, 
arms,  legs,  and  a  flapping  sombrero.  Dropping  the  reins, 


she  charged  the  cook,  who  stood  transfixed  to  the  wall, 
powerless. 

"Pedro,  as  I  live!"  she  cried,  seizing  his  hands. 
"  Oh,  Pedro,  thou  graceless,  fat,  one-legged  darling  of  a 
cook,  I  was  never  more  joyed  in  my  life !  " 

Pedro  struggled  in  her  grasp,  speechless,  his  face 
reddening  violently,  as  she  held  him  at  arm's  length,  sur 
veying  him  with  pleasure. 

"And  'tis  thou!"  she  exclaimed.  "Hold,  whilst  I 
look  at  thee  —  stop  squirming,  thou  lubber !  Yes,  I  'd 
know  thee  in  a  brigade,  even  did  I  not  see  thy  peg.  But 
why  dost  not  greet  me,  Pedro?  Greet  me,  sinner!  Dost 
think  I  've  journeyed  a  thousand  leagues  over  sea  and 
mountain  to  be  received  like  a  cold  omelet?  Fie,  Pedro! " 

He  gained  his  voice  with  an  effort.  "  Why  —  my 
greetings,  Seriora  Bolio !  "  he  panted.  "  What  the  devil 

—  I  'm  glad  to  see  thee  well !  —  but  release  my  hands, 
prithee !  —  we  're  in  the  street,  woman.     Thou  'It  stir  a 
scandal ! " 

"  A  scandal ! "  returned  the  senora,  scornfully. 
"  Soapsuds !  A  scandal,  forsooth !  What  care  I  for  these 
pagans?  I  'm  glad  to  see  thee." 

"  Of  course  —  of  course!  "  gasped  Pedro.  "  But  look 
to  thy  mule !  —  he 's  wandering  away,  reins  down.  Let 
me  go !  I  '11  —  I  '11  catch  him." 

"  Let  him  wander,  Pedro,  and  may  the  fiend  ride  him 
with  hot  spurs!  He  hath  jolted  the  life  out  of  me  these 
many  days.  But,  art  not  surprised  to  see  me?  Say!" 

"  Name  of  a  martyr !  Yes !  "  said  Pedro,  desperately. 
"  But  loose  my  hands,  I  tell  thee !  We  're  observed." 

"  Oh,  Pedro,  thou  'rt  so  coy,  thou  dear  old  cherub ! " 

—  and  she  laughed  joyfully. 

"  Oh,  coy !  "  groaned  Pedro.  "  Thunder  and  Mars ! 
Dost  not  see  the  town  watching  us?  And  look  at  the  rear 
guard!" 


252  THE    CRIMSON    CONQUEST 

The  troopers  had  halted,  and  were  observing  the  little 
drama  with  interest. 

"  Brava,  Sefiora  I  "  called  one,  encouragingly.  "  His 
timidity  is  that  of  inexperience.  Persist,  and  he'll  suc 
cumb,  my  head  upon  it  1 " 

The  lady  turned.  "  What  now?  "  she  demanded,  in 
dignantly,  facing  them  with  hands  upon  her  hips.  "  Who 
gave  you  command  to  halt?  Jog  on,  jog  on!  Circulate! 
Go,  you  singular  accumulation  of  veal  and  old  iron! 
Wend,  worry  on,  flit,  you  most  unusual  galaxy  of  junk 
and  poultice !  You  grotesque  pack  of " 

They  tarried  not  to  hear  the  completion  of  her  period. 
They  had  journeyed  with  Senora  Bolio  for  many  weeks,  and 
had  learned  her  powers.  When  she  turned  to  Pedro  he 
was  vanishing  through  the  doorway,  and  she  followed  pre 
cipitately.  He  backed  against  a  table,  and  she  dropped 
into  a  chair  facing  him. 

"  Vagabonds !  "  she  exclaimed,  wrathfully,  fanning 
herself  with  her  sombrero.  "  They  have  gone  clean 
through  my  patience  a  hundred  times  since  we  sailed  from 
Panama.  May  the  goblins  gnaw  their  shin-bones  1 " 

Pedro  passed  his  sleeve  across  his  forehead.  "  But 
they  have  left  thee  thy  gifts  of  speech,  Sefiora,"  he 
ventured. 

"  Ah  I  What  would  I  do  without  them  —  a  helpless 
woman?  Oh,  me!  'T  is  a  sad  world,  Pedro.  —  But 
thou  'rt  plump  as  a  suckling  porker,  chiquiio.  And  this  is 
thy  place?  Car  a  I  What  a  savory  smell!  " 

"  Why,  bless  me !  "  cried  Pedro,  forgetting  his  disturb 
ance  in  his  hospitality.  "  Thou  must  be  hungry !  " 

"  Hungry !  "  said  Senora  Bolio.  "  Boil  me  this  hat, 
and  I  would  eat  it,  amigo  miol  But  first,  help  me  off  with 
this  rusty  furniture  of  mine.  Saints!  I  was  never  so 
wearied  of  a  garment  as  of  this  iron  bodice.  'T  is  a  man's, 
of  course,  tight  where  it  should  be  full,  and  full  where  it 


253 

should  be  snug.  But  they  told  me  I  should  have  to  fight 
as  often  as  eat,  or  more,  so  I  bought  it,  with  the  cleaver 
thou  mayst  have  seen  on  my  saddle.  And,  Pedro,  we 
must  find  the  mule,  for  I  would  keep  that  cleaver  by  me. 
No  telling  when  I  may  need  to  use  it  on  an  Inca  —  thou 
callest  them  Incas,  these  varlets  in  sleeveless  pinafores?  — 
Well,  't  is  all  the  same.  Now,  I  am  ready  for  a  full 
trencher." 

Seated  before  his  guest  while  she  ate  with  an  appetite 
keened  by  hard  marches  and  harder  fare,  Pedro  recovered 
his  composure  in  listening  to  news  of  the  civilized  world, 
interrupted  now  and  again  by  the  entrance  of  patrons,  each 
of  whom  started  at  sight  of  the  lady,  then  bowed  with 
a  curious  glance  at  the  host  which  made  him  fidget. 

"  Now,"  said  the  senora,  finishing,  "  thou  must  find 
me  lodgings,  Pedro  dear;  and  before  night,  my  mule,  for 
I  '11  not  sleep  without  that  axe.  My  crucifix  and  it  have 
been  mine  only  comforts  since  I  touched  this  benighted 
land.  I  '11  part  with  neither.  Canst  find  me  a  room, 
thinkst  thou?  Ah,  thou 'rt  a  love!  I  could  wish  thou 
hadst  two  legs ;  but  with  only  one  and  a  half  thou  'rt  more 
complete  than  any  other  man  I  ever  knew,"  and  she 
bestowed  a  smile  whose  warmth  caused  him  to  back  away 
with  an  uneasy  glance  about  the  room.  To  his  relief  she 
made  no  further  demonstration,  and  shortly  they  sallied 
out  in  search  of  quarters  for  her  accommodation.  A  satis 
factory  lodging  was  found  with  a  native  couple  —  and  thus 
was  Senora  Margarita  Bolio  established  in  the  land  of 
the  Incas. 


CHAPTER  XXII 
Rava  in  the  Toils 

NEXT  morning  early  Pedro's  mule,  held  by  Pe- 
drillo,  stood  at  his  door,  surrounded  by  a  whis 
pering,    awe-stricken    group    of   native   urchins 
lingering  to  see  the  dread  beast  mounted  by  the 
Viracocha  of  the  fabulous  leg.      As  Pedro  appeared  the 
brute  twitched  an  ear  toward  him,  opened  his  mouth,  and 
drew  breath  in  a  faint,  rasping,  wheezy  note  of  salutation. 
Pedro  was  gloomy,  but  he  paused  to  rub  the  gray  nose. 

"  Ah,  my  good  friend,"  he  said,  with  feeling,  "  there  is 
melancholy  in  thine  accent  —  belike,  the  echo  of  a  melan 
choly  in  thy  soul,  like  that  in  mine.  'T  is  but  a  sorry  life : 
we  're  agreed  in  that,  and  comrades  in  misery.  Thou,  a 
mule,  a  cook's  mule;  I,  a  cook,  a  one-legged  cook; 
and  a  panting,  surcharged,  vociferous  Bolio  at  our  heels, 
following  with  the  pertinacy  of  doom!  But  if  thou,  too, 
hast  doleful  thoughts,  forbear  to  voice  them,  lest  I  be 
brought  to  tears.  Now,  prithee,  lend  me  thy  back.  Adios, 
Pedrillo.  Remember  the  frijoles-  Burn  them  again,  scamp, 
and  I  '11  —  Whoa,  mule !  Thou  misbegotten  whimsy,  I 
thought  I  read  sadness  in  thine  eye,  —  and  't  was  the  devil. 
Be  done,  or  I  '11  chew  thine  ear !  Farewell,  Pedrillo." 

Pedro  was  off.  Half-an-hour's  ride  took  him  through 
the  suburbs,  and  he  turned  into  the  military  road  toward 
the  grim  fortress  overlooking  the  town.  A  short,  steep 
climb,  and  he  was  at  the  gate,  bantered  by  the  guard 
about  the  coming  of  Senora  Bolio.  Within  was  a  citadel, 


255 

surrounded  by  buildings  for  the  garrison,  or  the  towns 
people  when  driven  by  war,  and  quarters  for  the  Inca's 
officers.  As  Pedro  was  passing  he  was  hailed  by  the  fa 
miliar  pipe  of  Rogelio.  He  drew  rein,  not  in  the  best  of 
grace,  awaiting  the  -veedor's  approach. 

"  Ah,  Pedro,  my  good  friend,"  said  Rogelio,  "  I  am 
pleased  to  see  thee.  I  had  thee  in  mind,  't  is  but  a  moment 
since.  I  " 

"  Ware  the  heels  of  the  mule!  "  bellowed  Pedro,  with 
a  violence  that  startled  the  weedor  into  sudden  agility  in 
a  backward  spring. 

"  My  soul  and  body ! "  exclaimed  Rogelio,  rolling  his 
eyes  from  the  beast  to  its  rider.  "  No  need  to  roar,  my 
friend.  Thine  animal  looketh  gentle  enough." 

"  He  hideth  an  abundance  of  wickedness  under  a 
smooth  exterior  —  like  some  of  his  brethren  who  go  on 
two  legs,"  remarked  Pedro. 

"Ah?"  Rogelio  eyed  the  cook  suspiciously. 

"  Ah !  "  returned  Pedro.  "  But,  hadst  aught  to  say, 
Senor  Veedor?" 

"  Why,  I  have,  good  Pedro,"  said  Rogelio,  recovering. 
"  In  a  few  days  —  perhaps  a  fortnight,  perhaps  very  soon 
—  I  expect  —  that  is  to  say,  I  —  he,  he,  Pedro !  —  't  is  a 
delicate  subject  —  but  —  well,  I  may  need  a  woman 
servant.  Just  a  common  servant,  Pedro." 

"  Ah !  "  said  the  cook.  "  Just  a  common  servant !  So ! 
'T  is  a  common  need,  Veedor  shared  by  common  and  un 
common.  I  thank  thee  for  thy  confidence,  Senor.  I  '11 
betray  it  to  no  man."  And  apparently  considering  the 
interview  closed,  Pedro  gathered  his  reins  to  go. 

"  Wait !  "  shouted  the  <veedor.  "  Blockhead,  that  is 
not  all!" 

"Not  all,  Senor!    Thou  hast  need  of  two?" 

The  <veedor  piped  a  curse,  then  controlled  himself  and 
went  on  with  a  smile  of  forced  amiability.  "  I  mean  it  is 


256  THE   CRIMSON    CONQUEST 

not  all  I  have  to  say,  Pedro.    In  a  few  days  —  or  less  — 
I  hope  to  share  thy  happiness." 

"  My  happiness !  "  exclaimed  Pedro,  mystified.  "  Oh, 
I  see!  The  Senor  is  going  to  turn  cook." 

"  Damnation !  "  squeaked  the  veedor;  then  stifling  his 
rage,  he  continued:  "No,  no!  Not  that.  By  thy  happi 
ness  I  mean  thine  inamorada,  the  Senora  Bolio " 

"  Oh,  blessed  saints !  "  interrupted  Pedro.  "  Thou 
wouldst  share  my  happiness  in  the  Senora?  Take  it  all, 
Senor !  Take  the  whole  of  her.  By  heaven,  I  '11  send  her 
up  entire!  Wait  but  an  hour."  He  started  to  turn  his 
mule. 

"Stop,  fool!"  choked  the  exasperated  -veedor;  and 
grasping  at  a  rein,  narrowly  escaped  a  kick.  He  sprang 
out  of  range  with  a  gasp. 

"  Well,"  said  Pedro,  complacently,  "  I  gave  thee 
warning,  Senor.  But  hast  more  to  say?  " 

It  was  a  minute  before  Rogelio  regained  his  speech. 
"Yes!"  he  shrilled.  "Perdition!  Yes!  If  thou  wilt 
but  hold  thy  tongue ! " 

" Buenol    I  listen.    Proceed,  Senor  Veedor" 

Rogelio  drew  near  again  and  said,  with  difficulty, 
forcing  a  grin :  "  Now,  in  the  devil's  name,  give  heed ;  and 
forbear  to  fly  off  the  bowstring  until  I  have  finished! 
What  I  Ve  tried  to  get  into  thy  pate  is  this.  In  a  few  days 
I  shall  have  a  guest,  Pedro."  He  looked  cautiously  about 
and  whispered,  "  A  maiden,  my  friend  —  the  fairest 
heathen  in  the  land.  I  '11  not  say  her  name  —  he,  he !  — 
that  shall  be  a  secret.  But,  I  would  have  a  woman  servant 
—  one  worthy  of  dependence,  dost  mark?  Canst  find  me 
one?  Thou  'rt  known  to  the  townsfolk,  and  I  am  not. 
What  sayst?  There  will  be  some  moderate  compensation 
for  thy  time  and  trouble,  Pedro,  —  moderate,  mind  thee, 
for  I  am  a  poor  man;  though,"  he  looked  about  again, 
"  I  '11  tell  thee  this,  once  I  have  her  safe,  there  will  be 


RAVA   IN   THE   TOILS  257 

treasure  untold  at  my  command  —  Ah !  Hum !  —  That  is, 
Pedro,  a  fair  sum  —  rather  small,  in  fact  —  little  more  than 

enough  for  my  requirements,  for  I  have  a  fam "  He 

stopped  short,  snuffled,  and  went  on  hastily,  "  I  '11  pay 
thee,  Pedro.  Wilt  find  me  a  servant?  " 

Pedro  concealed  both  his  contempt  and  his  suddenly 
roused  interest,  and  after  brief  scrutiny  of  the  tallowy  face 
and  protuberant  eyes,  looked  away.  "  Why,"  he  drawled, 
"  for  the  time  it  hath  taken  thee  to  get  it  out,  't  is  a  simple 
matter.  Doubtless  I  can  find  a  woman.  I  '11  look  about." 

"  Do  so,  my  worthy  friend,"  said  Rogelio,  rubbing  his 
hands.  "  It  will  be  worth  thy  while." 

"  No  doubt,"  answered  Pedro.  "  Adios,  Senor."  He 
rode  away. 

"  Dolt,  lunk-head,  clod-pate!  "  muttered  Rogelio,  look 
ing  viciously  after  him. 

"  Oily  scoundrel !  "  muttered  Pedro.  "  Slimy  das 
tard."  Then  he  chuckled.  "  Oh,  give  me  but  an  hour,  and 
I  could  work  him  into  a  fit !  His  rage  striketh  at  his  vitals. 
But,  let  us  see!  A  maiden,  the  fairest  in  the  land,  and 
treasure  untold!  God's  love!  Can  it  be  she?  "  He  reined 
up,  the  better  to  think,  and  sat  in  study,  his  geniality  of 
countenance  giving  place  to  grave  concern.  Shortly  he 
rode  on,  still  pondering. 

Pedro's  mission  to  the  fortress  was  to  see  the  sick 
armorer  and  warn  him  against  Fray  Mauricio,  with  the 
advice  that  Jose  go  straightway  to  Cuzco,  where  Pizarro 
would  hold  him  safe.  The  Morisco  was  so  ill,  however, 
that  he  said  nothing  of  his  errand,  and  after  an  hour  at  the 
bedside,  took  his  departure. 

Pedro  rode  back  much  occupied  with  uneasy  thoughts 
of  Cristoval  and  Rava.  He  had  heard  nothing  of  their 
fate,  and  it  was  generally  believed  that  they  had  perished 
in  the  mountains.  After  De  Valera  had  been  found  in  the 
canyon  by  his  companions  even  the  Cafiares  had  lost  the 

17 


258  THE    CRIMSON    CONQUEST 

scent.  Still  Pedro  hoped,  and  better,  prayed  with  right 
good-will.  Now  he  determined  to  watch  for  Rogelio's 
expected  guest,  his  suspicion  thoroughly  roused  by  the 
morning's  conversation. 

Two  days  later  he  was  again  riding  toward  the  fort 
ress.  On  this  occasion,  however,  he  went  beyond,  making 
inquiries  for  the  huasi  of  one  Municancha,  master-mason. 
Rewarded  at  length,  he  was  received  with  distinction  by 
the  dignified  Indio  and  his  interesting  family,  to  whom  he 
made  himself  so  agreeable  that  he  was  pressed  to  come 
again,  the  small  children  chasing  the  dust  of  his  mule  for 
many  yards,  with  shrill  farewell  and  reiterated  invitation. 

Pedro  rode  back  in  an  enviable  frame  of  mind.  It  was 
dark  when  he  passed  the  road  to  the  fortress,  and  he  had 
gone  a  little  beyond  when  his  mule  stopped  with  a  sudden 
ness  that  sent  his  hand  smartly  to  his  sword-hilt.  He  dis 
tinguished  a  shadowy  group  of  figures  ahead,  and  hearing 
a  word  in  Spanish,  he  prodded  his  animal  with  his  single 
spur  and  rode  forward.  The  strangers  had  drawn  off  to 
let  him  pass.  As  he  neared  them  Pedro  hailed:  — 

"Hola,  compadres!    A  good-night  to  you." 

"  Oh,  't  is  Pedro !  "  he  heard  one  say  in  relief,  then  the 
ring  of  ordered  pikes,  and,  "  Good-night,  Pedro !  "  briefly. 

"  What  cheer,  friends?  "  asked  the  cook,  drawing  rein; 
but  they  moved  on  without  response.  He  grunted  at  their 
discourtesy  and  went  his  way,  failing  to  observe  in  the 
darkness  that  two  of  the  number  bore  a  hamaca. 

The  party  halted  near  the  fortress  gate.  Duero  was 
challenged  by  the  sentinel,  seating  himself  wearily  while 
the  soldier  drawled  his  call  for  the  sergeant.  The  officer 
appeared,  a  parley  followed,  and  the  gate  swung  open. 

"  Well,  and  what  fortune,  amigo  ?  "  asked  the  old  ser 
geant,  surveying  Duero  as  he  stood  scowling  in  the  lantern 
light.  "Why,  man,  thou 'rt  haggard!" 

The  other  replied  with  an  oath :     "  Not  the  worst 


RAVA   IN   THE   TOILS  259 

fortune,  but  so  near  the  worst  that,  curse  me,  't  would  be 
no  easy  choice  between  them.  Dost  pass  my  party?  " 

"  Pass  them,"  said  the  sergeant,  and  Duero  called  to 
his  companions ;  then,  not  wishing  to  be  interrogated,  gave 
the  officer  good-night.  The  sergeant  watched  the  hamaca 
past  the  gate,  and  with  a  grimace  to  his  sentinel,  retired  to 
the  guard-room.  Since  the  death  of  Atahualpa  he  had  seen 
the  like  more  than  once. 

Inside  the  gate  Duero  dismissed  his  remnant  of  the 
Canares.  Taking  up  the  silent  and  closely  curtained  ham 
aca,  the  Spaniards  were  presently  pounding  at  the  -veedors 
door.  An  Indio  servant  opened  to  them,  and  the  litter  was 
carried  into  the  court.  Apprised  of  its  arrival,  Rogelio 
hurried  out. 

Duero  ignored  his  greeting  and  demanded  bluntly: 
"  Where  is  the  cage,  Sefior  Veedor  ?  Here  is  the  bird." 

"  Oh,  my  stars !  "  snuffled  Rogelio,  rubbing  his  hands 
and  sidling  round  the  hamaca-  "  Is  she  there,  indeed?  — 
and  in  good  condition,  Duero?  Remember,  that  was  part 
of  the  stipulation  —  that  she  should  be  unharmed,  and  in 
good  condition." 

"  As  to  being  unharmed,  I  '11  answer  for  it,"  replied  the 
soldier.  "  As  for  her  condition,  you  can  figure  for  yourself 
what  it  is  like  to  be  after  such  a  journey.  Where  will  you 
have  her  put?  Come!  We 're  weary." 

"  This  way,"  said  Rogelio,  in  a  fluster.  "  The  room  is 
all  prepared  —  a  bower,  Duero,  a  very  bower!  He,  he! 
Wait !  I  '11  fetch  a  lamp."  He  scuttled  away,  reappeared 
with  a  light,  and  led  the  way  to  a  door  opening  upon  the 
patio.  It  was  fastened  with  a  heavy  padlock.  Fumbling 
for  a  second,  he  threw  open  the  door.  The  hamaca  was  car 
ried  in,  the  door  closed,  and  while  Rogelio  edged  round 
eagerly  with  the  lamp,  striving  for  a  glimpse,  Duero  threw 
back  the  curtains  and  lifted  Rava,  almost  lifeless,  from  the 
litter.  She  moaned  as  he  bore  her  to  the  couch,  and  he 


26o  THE    CRIMSON    CONQUEST 

hastened  to  remove  the  bonds  and  gag  she  had  worn  since 
nearing  Xauxa.  She  gave  no  other  evidence  of  animation. 

"Here  —  the  light!"  commanded  Duero,  gruffly,  and 
took  it  without  ceremony  from  the  <z>eed0r'shand,  bending 
over  the  girl  in  scrutiny.  Rogelio  hovered  about,  twisting 
his  fat  fingers,  and  straining  to  have  a  look  at  the  pale, 
drawn  face  almost  hidden  by  her  disordered  tresses.  It 
was  a  face  to  move  the  compassion  of  a  savage.  The  rough 
soldier  felt  its  pathos,  for  he  straightened  up  and  said 
brusquely :  — 

"  She  needeth  looking  after,  't  is  a  certainty.  Fetch 
a  woman  at  once,  Senor  Veedor" 

"  A  woman !  "  piped  Rogelio.  "  Why,  there 's  no 
woman  about.  I  have  spoken  for  one,  and  may  have  her 
to-morrow." 

"  No  woman  about !  "  exclaimed  Duero,  turning  upon 
him  sternly.  "  Do  you  say  there  is  none  to  give  this  girl 
the  care  she  needeth?" 

"  To-morrow  —  "  began  the  veedor  weakly. 

"  To-morrow !  —  To-night !  This  night,  Veedor,  or 
she  goeth  to  Xauxa."  Duero's  black  eyes  travelled  over 
Rogelio  with  an  expression  the  latter  did  not  care  to  meet. 

"  To-night !  Impossible,  Duero !  "  he  whined.  "  There 
is  not  a  woman  in  the  fortress  save  two  just  come  from  San 
Miguel,  and  they  —  "  He  shook  his  head. 

"  Then,  Senor,  you  will  fetch  one  from  Xauxa,"  said 
Duero,  with  determination. 

"  Curse  me  if  I  will !  "  retorted  the  <veedort  angrily. 
"  And  look  thou,  Duero :  this  is  mine  affair.  Thy  part  in 
it  is  done.  Thou  'It  refrain  from  meddling." 

Duero  motioned  his  companions  forward,  and  stepped 
to  raise  the  Nusta.  At  the  move  Rogelio  forgot  himself 
and  sprang  forward  with  a  snarl  and  curse  to  interpose, 
but  recollected  himself  at  once  when  Duero,  dagger  half- 
drawn,  thrust  an  elbow  beneath  his  chin  and  met  his  eyes 


RAVA   IN   THE   TOILS  261 

with  a  scowl  so  malevolent  that  he  caught  breath  with  a 
sudden  weakening  of  his  knees.  As  the  <veedor  retreated 
with  a  gasp  Duero  followed  him  steadily  with  his  glare, 
then  turned  again  with  deliberation  to  the  couch.  The 
<veedor  raised  a  shaking  hand  to  his  throat  as  if  he  ex 
pected  to  find  it  already  cut,  and  quavered :  — 

"My  —  my  soul  —  and  body,  Duero!  Thou 'rt  sud 
den  !  Wait !  I  —  fiends  and  goblins !  —  I  '11  go  if  it  will 
please  thee." 

"  It  will,"  said  Duero,  briefly.  "  See  that  you  do.  We 
will  tarry  until  your  return.  But  first,  a  small  cup  of 
chicha.  We  must  warm  her  blood,  or  your  woman  will 
find  a  corpse.  Do  you  hear,  Veedor?  A  cup  of  chicha. I" 

The  <veedor  started  painfully  and  waddled  away.  He 
was  back  in  a  moment  with  the  liquor.  The  soldier  forced 
a  few  drops  between  the  pallid  lips  of  the  Nusta,  and  vigor 
ously  chafed  her  hands  and  arms.  A  fierce,  unprincipled 
rascal  in  most  respects,  he  was  endowed  with  a  rough 
warmth  of  heart  to  which  the  helpless  state  of  his  captive 
made  silent  appeal.  He  worked  with  what  gentleness  was 
in  him,  and  when  at  last  Rava  opened  her  pathetic  eyes  he 
motioned  his  companions  out  of  the  room  with  the  hamaca- 
Rogelio  lingered  near,  but  a  gesture  from  Duero  and  the 
menace  in  his  eyes  sent  him  back  into  the  shadow,  whisper 
ing  a  futile  anathema.  When  the  unhappy  girl  revived 
somewhat  the  soldier  drew  a  robe  over  her,  and  leaving 
her  sobbing  desolately  among  the  pillows,  gripped  Rogelio's 
arm  and  led  him  out.  He  locked  the  door,  and  to  the 
weedors  astonishment  and  rage,  pocketed  the  key.  The 
other  commenced  a  shrill  expostulation,  but  the  burly 
Duero  merely  hunched  a  shoulder  at  him  with  chin  thrust 
out  and  a  sidelong  glance  of  quiet  viciousness  that  stopped 
his  railing  abruptly.  Rogelio  led  the  way  to  his  room  with 
no  further  word,  followed  by  his  four  sullen  hirelings. 

They  ranged  themselves  round  his  table  in  silence. 


262  THE    CRIMSON    CONQUEST 

The  <veedor  stood  glancing  uneasily  from  one  scowl  to 
another,  then  piped  in  irritation :  "  Well,  gentlemen,  your 
task  is  finished,  isn't  it?  Come  now,  my  good  friends, 
the  hour  groweth  late.  Return  in  the  morning,  and  I  '11 
give  you  your  hire." 

Duero  stepped  forward,  planting  a  powerful  fist  upon 
the  table  and  hitching  at  his  belt :  "  Senor  Veedor,  we  '11 
have  our  hire  now!  Then,  when  you  have  brought  some 
one  to  look  after  the  sefiorita,  our  business  is  done.  In  the 
meantime,  with  your  leave  —  or  without  it  —  we  wait  here. 
She  must  be  cared  for  before  morning.  But  now,  our 
gold." 

Rogelio  blinked  about  the  circle,  snuffled,  and  went 
out.  Having  closed  the  door,  his  rage  overflowed  in  a  series 
of  frenzied  gesticulations  in  the  direction  of  Duero,  accom 
panied  by  suppressed  grunts  and  squeaks,  until  he  was 
swollen  in  feature  and  quite  breathless.  He  returned  with 
a  bag  and  pair  of  balances.  They  looked  on  with  vigilance 
while  he  weighed  out  the  gold,  the  lamp  illuminating 
swarthy  faces  full  of  eagerness  —  except  that  of  Duero, 
which  was  only  watchful  and  grim. 

"There!"  snapped  the  employer.  "Two  thousand 
castellanos.  Take  it." 

Duero  extended  an  arm  to  withhold  the  others  and 
said,  coolly,  "  Double  it!  " 

The  <veedor  staggered  back  with  the  bag  clasped  in 
his  arms.  "  Wha  —  what?"  he  gasped. 

"  I  say,  double  it !  "  replied  Duero,  with  force. 

Rogelio  stared  at  him  with  fallen  chin. 

"  Double  it !  "  repeated  the  soldier,  and  returned  the 
stare  fixedly. 

"  Fiends !  "  shrieked  the  <veedor.  "  Man,  thou  'rt  mad ! 
What  was  our  bargain?  " 

"  That  acquitteth  the  bargain,  Senor,  but  there  are 
damages." 


RAVA    IN    THE    TOILS  263 

"  Damages !    What  damages?  " 

"  Why,  to  our  several  consciences,  Veedor.  Mine,  I  '11 
swear,  hath  stood  a  wear  and  tear  that  hath  left  not  rem 
nants  enough  to  equip  a  dog !  'T  is  a  most  villanous 
piece  of  villany,  and  promiseth  to  grow  worse  when  our 
hands  are  out  of  it.  By  the  crucifix!  Sefior  Rogelio,  my 
soul  will  need  masses  for  this  affair,  and  I  mean  to  provide 
for  them.  You  will  make  it  double,  or  the  girl  goeth  to 
Xauxa  this  night ;  and  I  '11  have  the  Sefior  Inca  notified 
—  or  mayhap,  Mendoza." 

"  Scoundrels,  bandits,  thieves !  "  screamed  Rogelio, 
his  face  purple  and  hands  shaking.  Duero  took  a  step 
toward  him  with  a  movement  to  his  sword-hilt,  and  the 
victim  retreated  to  the  wall,  hugging  his  gold  and  roll 
ing  his  eyes  in  terror.  The  soldier  surveyed  him  with 
contempt. 

"  Well,"  he  demanded,  "  what  do  you  say?  Must  we 
lug  her  back  to  Xauxa?  Answer,  and  quickly,  for  I 
sicken." 

"  Oh,  gentlemen !  "  wailed  Rogelio,  "  be  honest.  Be 
just.  Be  considerate  of  a  poor  man." 

Duero  broke  in  with  imitation  of  his  whine :  "  Oh,  be 
open-handed.  Be  charitable.  Be  virtuous.  Faugh!  You 
offend  my  bile.  Come.  Yes,  or  no!  Do  you  double  it? 
'T  is  indifferent  to  us,  for  the  Inca,  or  Mendoza,  will  know 
how  to  reward.  But  answer !  " 

Rogelio  rolled  his  eyes  to  heaven,  then  lagged  forward 
to  the  table  and  took  up  the  scales.  "  Oh,  my  good  men, 
'tis  —  " 

"  Cease !  "  commanded  Duero.  "  We  are  no  good 
men.  Had  we  been,  you  had  not  approached  us.  Weigh 
out,  and  be  done." 

The  <veedor  heaved  a  long,  shuddering  sigh,  and 
weighed  the  gold. 

"  Now,"  said  Duero,  "  to  your  horse,  and  to  Xauxa." 


264  THE    CRIMSON    CONQUEST 

"  Oh,  curses !  "  protested  the  veedor.  "  Art  not  fin 
ished?  I  Ve  paid  thee  twice  I  " 

"  Go !  "  shouted  Duero,  stamping  his  foot.  "  Order 
your  horse.  I  '11  see  you  to  the  gates." 

Rogelio  went  out  with  a  groan.  In  half  an  hour  he 
was  riding  down  the  hill,  panting  an  imprecation  at  every 
step.  Duero  returned  from  the  gate  whither  he  had  es 
corted  him,  and  calling  the  servant,  ordered  the  best  the 
<veedor's  larder  afforded.  Then  the  villains  held  carnival. 


CHAPTER   XXIII 

Rogelio  Finds  Gall  and  Wormwood 

PEDRO  was  extinguishing  the  lights  of  hiscantina 
when  he  heard  the  clatter  of  a  horse's  hoofs.  They 
stopped  at  his  door,  and  Rogelio  entered,  per 
spiring,  breathless,  and  in  violent  perturbation. 

"  Ho,  Senor  Veedor,  thou  dost  ride  late ! "  exclaimed 
Pedro,  in  surprise.  "  There  is  something  amiss?  " 

Rogelio  sank  upon  the  nearest  stool,  panting  and  wip 
ing  away  perspiration,  on  the  verge  of  apoplexy  from  exer 
tion  and  rage  combined.  The  danger  of  it  seemed  to  strike 
Pedro  at  once.  He  hurried  forward  and  commenced  fan 
ning  the  official  vigorously  with  his  apron. 

"  Steady,  steady,  Senor !  "  he  urged,  soothingly.  "  Do 
not  try  to  talk.  Take  time  and  spare  thy  wind.  Thou  'rt 
gasping  like  a  ducked  hen.  —  Nay,  nay!  Do  not  swear. 
Be  tranquil.  Calm  thyself.  Count  ten,  Senor -r— now  do! 
Believe  me,  naught  doth  so  soothe  a  fit  of  ferment.  But  — 
swearing  again !  Gently,  gently,  or  thou  'It  melt  in  thine 
own  heat !  Gods,  man !  Cease  rolling  thine  eyes.  Hast  a 
cramp  under  thy  belt?  Let  me  thump  thy  back.  —  Ah!  " 

Pedro  pummelled  the  agitated  -veeaor  between  the 
shoulders  with  hearty  vigor,  and  succeeded  thereby  in 
expelling  what  little  breath  he  had  remaining,  rendering 
him  still  more  helpless  from  exasperation.  He  saved  him 
self  by  bolting  from  his  seat  and  backing  against  the  wall, 
where  he  stood  waving  his  arms  in  speechlessness  to  keep 
the  zealous  cook  away. 

"  Name  of  a  saint,  my  friend!  "  said  Pedro,  with  great 


266  THE    CRIMSON    CONQUEST 

concern,  after  Rogelio  began  to  breathe  more  freely,  "  I 
never  saw  an  over-gorged  pup  nearer  a  fit  than  thou. 
What  hath  gone  wrong?" 

"  She  —  hath  arrived !  "   gasped  the  <veedor  at  length. 

"  Oh !  She  hath  arrived,  hath  she?  Well,  she  must  be 
a  very  tarantula  to  work  thee  a  spell  like  that,  Senor! 
By  the  gods,  even  Bolio's  coming  could  not  give  me  such  a 
bedevilment  of  jerks  and  palpitations !  " 

The  veedor  was  rendered  speechless  again.  Pedro 
eyed  him  with  great  commiseration  until  he  showed  signs 
of  recovery,  then  threw  him  into  another  spasm  by  inquir 
ing  with  solicitude, 

"  Doth  the  lady  pursue,  Senor?  If  so,  we  will  barri 
cade  the  door." 

Rogelio  held  up  his  hands,  violently  shaking  his  head. 
"  No,  no !  "  he  managed  to  say.  "  Damned  —  numskull ! 
Let  me  —  talk." 

"  Why,  talk,  to  be  sure!  'T  is  what  I  Ve  waited  for, 
—  to  hear  thee  talk.  What  the  devil  dost  think?  that 
I  Ve  been  standing  here  this  while  to  see  thee  contort  and 
strangle?  I  had  liefer  watch  a  pig  in  the  colic.  Proceed, 
Veedor,  and  talk.  It  may  ease  thy  mind.  Sensa  animi  tai 
libere  prof  are — Latin,  Senor,  and  it  meaneth,  speak  freely. 
Prithee,  begin.  I  listen." 

The  <oeedor  had  collapsed  into  a  chair,  choking  with 
rage.  He  sprang  up,  shaking  both  fists  at  the  cook,  and 
started  toward  the  door;  turned  back,  and  waving  his 
arms  for  silence,  howled :  "  Accursed  —  rattle-teeth !  — 
hear  me !  —  I  seek  a  servant !  " 

"  Thou  seekest  a  servant ! "  responded  Pedro,  with 
composure.  "  Well,  by  heaven,  I  could  guess  it !  And 
thou  needest,  not  one,  but  a  dozen,  I  should  say;  and  a 
strait-jacket  withal.  But,  infierno  I  is  the  quest  of  a  servant 
so  delirious  a  pursuit?  —  Now,  do  be  calm,  Senor!  Hold 
a  minute,  and  I'll  bleed  thee.  No?  But  'twould  be 


GALL   AND   WORMWOOD.  267 

wise,  my  friend,  for  if  thou  'rt  not  on  the  edge  of  the  stag 
gers,  then  I  never  gave  physic  to  a  horse.  —  And  now 
thou'rt  swearing  again!  Fie,  Veedorl  Here!  Let  me 
get  thee  a  wet  rag." 

Pedro  hurried  away.  When  he  returned  the  veedor 
had  regained  his  utterance,  and  waving  aside  the  prof 
fered  application,  he  shouted :  — 

"  Keep  off,  thou  babbling  moon-calf!  Wilt  hear  me? 
I  need  a  servant  —  at  once!  A  servant  —  dost  hear?  A 
servant  —  and  may  the  fiend  claw  thy  vitals!  Canst  get 
me  one  —  to-night?  I  '11  pay  thee  well." 

"  Well,  stew  me !  if  the  need  of  a  servant  wrought  me 

to  such  a  state  of  mind,  I  'd "    Pedro  seated  himself. 

"  But 't  is  late,  Veedor.    Thy  guest  hath  come,  sayst  thou?  " 

"  Yes,  yes !  She  is  sick  from  weariness,  and  needeth  a 
woman.  Wilt  find  me  one  ?  " 

Pedro  became  serious  at  once.  "  Sick !  Then  't  is 
pressing.  Let  me  think.  There  is  Senora  Bolio,  for  a 
possibility.  She  might  consent  to  go,  but  she  knoweth 
no  Quichua.  That,  however,  might  be  an  advantage,  not 
so?  Less  apt  to  connive  at  escape."  Pedro  eyed  the<veedor 
watchfully. 

"  Yes !  Diablo,  yes !  "  said  Rogelio,  eagerly.  "  Canst 
persuade  her?  " 

"  I  '11  try,"  said  Pedro,  rising.  He  threw  off  his  apron 
and  started  toward  the  door ;  halted,  and  came  back,  deter 
mined  to  test  his  suspicion.  "  Senor,"  he  said,  abruptly, 
"  how  did  they  get  her  away  from  Peralta?  Did  they  kill 
him?  If  not,  then  I  swear  to  thee,  Veedor,  thou  'rt  as  good 
as  dead ! "  and  Pedro  slowly  shook  his  head  in  direst 
portent. 

The  <veedor  was  unguarded.  He  started  violently,  and 
his  face  went  ashy.  "  Oh,  my  soul  and  body !  I  —  I  forgot 
to  ask  them."  He  scanned  the  cook  with  quick  suspicion. 
"How  in  the  devil's  name  dost  know?"  he  demanded. 


268  THE    CRIMSON    CONQUEST 

Pedro  placed  a  finger  beside  his  nose,  wagged  his  head 
with  deep  significance,  and  went  out.  Now  it  was  his 
turn  to  be  agitated. 

He  pegged  straight  to  the  sefiora's  lodging,  and 
pounded  upon  the  door  until  it  opened.  "  Quick ! "  he 
cried.  "  The  Viracocha  woman !  There  is  sickness." 

The  native  made  him  repeat  it,  refastened  the  door,  and 
left  Pedro  in  a  fume.  When  she  opened  again,  it  was  with 
a  request  to  follow,  and  led  him  across  the  court.  The 
senora  appeared  at  a  door  with  an  under-garment  over  her 
shoulders.  "  Is  it  thou,  Pedro? "  she  asked,  sleepily. 
"  What  is  to  do?  This  is  an  unholy  hour  to  wake  a  body, 
dost  not  know  it?  " 

Pedro  pushed  the  door  open,  and  entered.  "'Tis  a 
crying  need,"  he  said,  and  hastily  explained. 

"Who  is  this  girl?"  demanded  the  senora,  with  a 
pang  of  jealousy. 

"  Peralta's  enamorada,"  replied  the  cook,  thinking  he 
lied,  but  venturing  it  to  quiet  her  suspicion. 

"  And  who  this  Rogelio?  "  asked  the  senora. 

"A  toad!"  answered  Pedro.  "Wilt  go?  I  will  ride 
with  thee  to  the  fortress." 

The  senora  was  retying  the  fagged  end  of  her  braid. 

"  A  favor  to  me,  cartta"  urged  Pedro. 

"  I  will  go,"  said  Senora  Bolio. 

"  Then  come  to  the  cantina  as  soon  as  thou  'it  clad.  I 
will  have  thy  mule,"  and  he  hastened  away.  By  the  time 
the  animals  were  saddled  the  lady  arrived,  her  battle-axe 
beneath  her  arm,  wrapped  in  a  bundle  of  apparel.  Pedro 
strapped  it  to  her  saddle,  and  summoning  the  fevered 
veedor,  assisted  the  senora  to  mount.  As  they  rode 
out  on  the  quiet  road,  Rogelio  leading,  the  cook  gave 
further  history  of  the  Nusta,  together  with  certain  side 
lights  on  the  <veedor.  They  reached  the  fortress,  and 
having  seen  the  two  through  the  gate,  Pedro  returned, 


GALL   AND   WORMWOOD  269 

relieved  for  Rava,  but  sadly  disturbed  by  thoughts  of 
Cristoval. 

The  seiiora  followed  her  conductor  to  his  door.  As  he 
dismounted  a  sound  of  revelry  stole  out  upon  the  night, 
and  the  -veedor  dashed  in.  The  neglected  lady  sniffed 
after  him  scornfully,  swung  herself  out  of  the  saddle, 
unstrapped  her  belongings,  led  her  mule  into  the  patio, 
and  followed  the  <veedor  to  a  half-open  door.  The  unfor 
tunate  Rogelio  was  doomed  to  further  bitterness.  The 
room  was  lighted  by  all  the  lamps  of  the  establishment. 
Duero  and  his  companions  were  seated  round  a  well-laden 
board,  a  bowl  of  steaming  punch  in  the  midst,  and  had 
arrived  at  the  jovial  stage.  As  Rogelio  entered  and  stood 
blinking  at  the  brilliancy,  his  fat  chin  wagging  with  re 
newed  rage  at  their  effrontery,  they  surveyed  him  a  mo 
ment,  and  burst  into  a  shout  of  laughter.  Duero  raised  his 
cup. 

"  Hail,  good  host,  liberal  entertainer,  most  hospitable 
mate !  "  roared  he.  "  Thou  'rt  welcome.  Enter !  Come, 
leave  diffidence  outside.  Thou  'rt  not  intruding  —  now  is 
he,  camaradas  ?  No !  Sit  and  make  free.  What  is  ours  is 
thine  —  not  so,  camaradas  ?  Seguramente  I  Hola  I "  He 
sprang  to  his  feet  as  the  senora  appeared  at  the  door. 
"  Blessed  angels  of  Heaven,  what  do  I  see?  The  Senora 
Bolio !  "  He  advanced  with  a  profound  bow.  "  Welcome, 
Senora,  most  welcome!  Upon  my  heart,  'tis  like  the 
sight  of  a  nosegay  from  Old  Castile!  Ho,  companeros !  — 
your  courtesies  to  Senora  la  Conquistadora  I"  He  bowed 
again,  answered  by  the  lady  with  a  glare  of  cold  disdain. 

"  Miscreants,  knaves,  cutthroats !  "  shrieked  Rogelio. 
"  You  shall  pay  dear  for  this  night !  " 

Duero  surveyed  him  darkly,  hunched  his  shoulder, 
and  thrust  out  his  chin,  and  the  veedor  sank  into  a  chair. 
The  soldier  eyed  him  for  a  moment,  and  turned  to  the  lady. 
"  Seiiora,  I  surmise  thou  hast  come  to  care  for  the  girl. 


270  THE   CRIMSON    CONQUEST 

She  needeth  it,  God  knoweth,  and  the  less  time  lost  the 
better.    Come.    I  have  the  key." 

Rogelio  sprang  up  to  follow,  but  once  more  the  hunch 
of  shoulder,  the  thrust  of  chin,  and  the  scowling  look 
askance,  and  he  sat.  Duero  winked  at  the  senora  as  he 
turned  to  lead  the  way,  and  ignoring  her  snort  of  resent 
ment  of  the  liberty,  went  out.  She  followed,  and  halting 
at  the  Nusta's  door,  he  said,  as  he  unfastened,  "  Pedro  hath 
told  thee  of  this  Rogelio?  " 

"  Briefly,  that  he  is  a  toad,"  responded  the  senora. 

"  Brief,  but  most  precise !  Pedro  hath  a  good  head. 
Now,  Senora,  I  '11  leave  thee  to  enter,  and  the  door  un 
locked.  If  thou  hast  need  of  aught,  thou  'It  find  us  enter 
taining  the  <veedor  f or  an  hour  or  more.  I  '11  have  him  send 
a  bowl  of  broth  at  once.  Adtos." 

Duero  rejoined  the  others,  and  they  sat  long  making 
their  host  unhappy;  then,  having  promised  him  with  evi 
dent  sincerity  that  if  he  whispered  a  complaint  he  would 
find  himself  some  morning  with  a  severed  windpipe,  they 
took  their  leave. 

Senora  Bolio  went  to  the  couch.  Rava  had  raised  her 
head,  but  perceiving  the  invader  was  a  woman,  rose  to 
her  knees,  her  eyes  streaming,  and  voice  broken  with 
sobs.  With  arms  outstretched,  she  poured  forth  an  im 
passioned  supplication  in  words  to  the  stranger  unknown, 
—  in  words  unknown,  but  with  meaning  clear,  and  an  elo 
quence  that  went  straight  to  the  heart  of  the  senora. 
For  the  senora  had  a  heart.  It  beat  somewhat  wildly  at 
times,  and  at  times  with  vehement  hostility  toward  the 
sex  which  had  worked  it  countless  wrongs ;  but  like  other 
hearts  that  flame,  it  had  its  gentler  warmth.  The  appeal 
of  the  injured  and  helpless  girl  touched  her  womanliness, 
and  she  hastened  to  her  side. 

"  Poor  dearie ! "  she  exclaimed,  seating  herself  and 
drawing  the  sobbing  prisoner  to  her  breast.  "  Poor  little 


GALL   AND   WORMWOOD  271 

waif!  Have  they  been  cruel,  these  men?  Ah,  may  the 
devil  roast  them  well!  Do  not  weep,  love.  Do  not  weep, 
chiquita.  They  shall  not  harm  thee  more.  Let  the  <veedor 
beware.  Let  him  come  to  trouble  thee,  and  we  '11  un joint 
him  —  will  we  not,  little  one?  We'll  put  a  twist  in  his 
neck,  thou  and  I,  that  will  let  him  look  at  his  shoulder- 
blades  to  his  heart's  content  —  will  we  not,  my  dove? 
Ah!  That  we'll  do,  and  more,  if  he  but  roll  his  eyes 
aslant  at  thee !  " 

With  soft  voice  and  motherly  caress,  the  senora 
soothed  the  heart-broken  Rava;  her  words  —  perhaps 
quite  as  well  —  without  meaning  to  the  girl,  but  her  tones 
replete  with  sympathy.  Rava  clung  to  her  as  to  a  last 
hope,  becoming  gradually  more  calm,  until  a  knock  at 
the  door  stirred  her  terror  afresh.  Releasing  her,  the 
senora  sprang  up.  Grimly  she  stripped  her  battle-axe, 
and  stepped  to  the  door.  The  servant  recoiled. 

"  Ah,  't  is  thou !  "  the  lady  exclaimed,  and  received 
the  broth. 

The  strength  it  gave  aided  her  efforts  to  restore 
calm  to  the  despairing  captive,  and  in  an  hour  Rava  slept. 
Her  guardian  sat  long,  nursing  a  waxing  enmity  for  the 
authors  of  the  maiden's  sorrows,  and  for  Rogelio  in  par 
ticular;  then,  having  with  fell  purpose  placed  her  weapon 
conveniently  at  hand,  she  lay  down  beside  her  protegee- 

She  awoke  early,  astonished  to  find  Rava  kneeling 
with  hands  clasped  in  prayer,  a  silver  crucifix  before  her 
on  her  pillow,  the  Latin  periods,  in  her  quaint,  hesitating 
accents,  sounding  strangely.  The  senora  joined  her  ori 
son,  then  turned  to  her  in  surprise. 

"  A  Christian,  thou?  "   she  asked,  taking  her  hand. 

Rava  understood  the  word,  and  assented  eagerly. 
"  Cristoval !  "  she  said,  and  touched  the  crucifix,  her  eyes 
filling  at  the  name. 

"Ah!   Peralta!    The  stout  freebooter  with  the  good 


272  THE   CRIMSON    CONQUEST 

voice.  I  know  him,"  and  the  senora  nodded  emphatically. 
"Art  baptized,  child?" 

This  word  was  familiar  also,  and  Rava  nodded  her 
head ;  then  said  eagerly :  "  Father  Tendilla !  Father 
Tendilla!" 

"  Father  Tendilla!  "  exclaimed  Senora  Bolio.  "  Thou 
knowest  him?  Blessed  thought! — we'll  send  a  word  to 
Father  Tendilla.  Aha,  Rogelio,  sniffling  obesity,  we  shall 
see !  We  '11  choke  thee  with  thine  own  unholy  purpose, 
or  I  'm  not  Bolio.  Rogelio,  indeed !  If,  now,  Pedro  will 
but  come ! "  She  patted  Rava's  arm  reassuringly  and 
arose. 

Meanwhile  theveedor,  with  eyes  puffed  and  bloodshot 
from  a  night  of  scanty  sleep  and  much  exacerbation,  was 
breakfasting.  At  intervals  he  paused,  laid  down  his  knife, 
and  sat  rubbing  his  hands  in  pleasing  meditation  while  he 
chewed.  Then  his  complacent  smile  would  fade,  and  he 
would  cease  both  to  rub  his  hands  and  to  chew  while  he 
irefully  reviewed  the  night's  indignities.  "  Caitiffs !  Per 
fidious  scoundrels!  Vipers!  Only  wait!  Rogelio  hath 
not  done.  If  he  live  not  to  see  the  garrote  at  every  one 
of  your  rascally  throats,  then  'tis  because  he  shall  be 
short-lived.  Wait,  my  over-cheerful  bullies:  we'll  have 
another  settling  of  this  account,  and  't  is  Rogelio  will  split 
his  sides!  But,  oh,  my  stars,  what  a  cost!  Four  thou 
sand  —  oh,  calamities !  "  Then,  as  the  matter  slowly  re 
volved  in  his  mind  and  the  other  aspect  came  uppermost, 
he  would  begin  to  chew  again  with  a  returning  smirk  of 
satisfaction.  "  But  what  a  prize !  Eh,  Rogelio,  what  a 
prize!  And  safely  housed  —  in  the  cage,  as  Duero  put 
it!  —  accursed  knave!  serpent!  Four  —  oh,  my  soul 
and  body !  —  But,  oho !  Mendoza,  thou  uncouth  ruffian, 
how  now?  Rogelio  hath  overmatched  thee,  despite  thy 
rant  and  swagger.  He,  he!  The  fox  and  the  bull  —  the 
fox  and  the  bull !  Ah,  but  thou  'rt  a  rogue,  Rogelio !  a 


GALL   AND   WORMWOOD  273 

sad  rogue  and  sly !  And  thou  'It  be  reimbursed  the  four 
thousand  —  oh,  my  life,  yes !  Her  jewels  ought  to  do  that. 
Did  she  wear  jewels  last  night?  Murder!  I  did  not  think 
to  look.  But  't  is  like  Duero  looked  out  for  that  —  or  that 
prison-bird,  Peralta."  Rogelio's  countenance  fell.  Pres 
ently  it  brightened.  "  But  we  have  her,  and  now  it  is  to 
be  seen  how  she  will  receive  thee,  Rogelio  —  her  daring 
captor!  Doubtless  with  charming  terrors  and  maidenly 
trembling.  Oh,  these  delightful  women!  Shy,  timid, 
alluring!  Bless  their  souls  —  if  they  have  souls.  He, 
he!" 

He  sat  awhile  blinking  and  chuckling  at  the  remains 
of  his  meal;  snuffled,  arose,  and  went  to  make  a  toilet 
which  he  purposed  should  reconcile  his  captive.  A  zestful, 
engaging  occupation,  this  decking  for  the  admiration  of  a 
fair  one;  and  most  agreeable  if  one  can,  like  Rogelio, 
achieve  it  with  the  flattering  self-assurance  that  it  cannot 
fail.  Nevertheless,  it  was  not  without  some  rasping  of 
temper,  and  more  than  once  in  the  process  Rogelio 
stamped  and  swore  with  squeaky  emphasis.  But  at  length, 
after  a  final  glance  at  his  mirror  and  a  dubious  fingering  of 
his  double  chin  and  hanging  jowls,  he  quit  his  room,  cred 
itably  attired,  considering  all  the  circumstances.  To  be 
sure,  his  hose  were  mended  in  places,  his  doublet  seedy  in 
the  strong  light,  and  his  ruff  far  from  crisp  and  snowy; 
but  these  defects  were  offset  by  a  profusion  of  rings,  and 
a  redolence  of  musk  sufficiently  overpowering  to  divert 
attention. 

^  Senora  Bolio  answered  his  rap,  and  opening  the  door 
'a  little  way,  replied  to  his  salutation  with  a  brief  nod,  and 
stood  surveying  him  from  head  to  foot  and  back  again 
from  foot  to  head  with  disfavor  as  disconcerting  as  it  was 
manifest.  Indisputably,  the  senora's  aspect  was  unfriendly. 

The  <veedor  hesitated.  "Is  —  ah  —  is  the  senorita 
within?  " 


274  THE   CRIMSON    CONQUEST 

The  senora  paused  for  another  survey  before  she  re 
plied  with  asperity :  "  Is  the  senorita  within !  Of  a  surety 
the  senorita  is  within.  Prithee,  where  is  she  like  to  be  — 
out  chasing  butterflies?  " 

Rogelio  looked  at  her  in  blank  surprise;  then,  with  a 
feeble  effort  at  a  smile :  "  I  would  have  a  few  words  with 
her,  Senora,  —  and  alone !  Pray,  open  the  door." 

The  senora  made  no  move  to  open  the  door,  but  replied 
tartly :  "  The  senorita  hath  no  words  to  spare  and  no  ear 
for  listening.  She  is  wearied." 

The  veedor  reddened  slowly  as  astonishment  turned  to 
anger.  "  What  —  what,  woman !  Dost  think  to  offer  me 
hindrance  in  mine  own  house?  Stand  aside,  then  gather 
thy  belongings.  Thou 'rt  dismissed,  dost  hear?  dis 
missed  !  "  He  stepped  forward. 

For  reply  the  lady  thrust  out  her  arm  and  in  close 
proximity  to  his  nose,  snapped  her  fingers.  The  <veedor 
gasped.  His  nerves  were  already  unstrung,  and  his  in 
dignation  set  him  a-quiver  as  if  he  had  been  some  huge, 
fancifully-moulded  jelly. 

"  Why  —  name  of  a  —  thou  —  my  soul  and  body ! 
What  meanest  thou,  beldame?  inconceivable  termagant!  " 

Alas!  Rogelio.  That  was  unfortunate,  ill-considered, 
rash.  As  if  thou  wert  not  enough  distraught !  —  and  now 
to  invite  the  overflow  of  this  brimming  vessel  of  wrath! 
Before  he  could  draw  a  second  breath  she  was  outside, 
arms  akimbo,  her  face  thrust  so  close  into  his  that  her 
features  for  a  moment  were  a  blur  to  his  startled  eyes. 
Then  she  unrolled  the  infinite  scroll  of  her  diatribe,  —  a 
withering  flow  of  invectives  garnered  in  years  of  rude 
experience;  a  schedule  of  strange  metaphors,  born  of 
inspiration  and  chasing  in  so  rapid  sequence  that  his  be 
wildered  ears  no  sooner  received  the  shock  of  one  than 
another  followed,  twice  more  shocking;  a  torrent  of  hy 
perboles  so  weird  in  their  personal  application  that  his 


GALL   AND   WORMWOOD  275 

ideas  staggered  in  a  vague,  wondering  effort  to  compre 
hend,  then  floundered  helpless  in  the  stream;  and  each 
member  of  her  discourse  emphasized  by  a  jab  at  his  nose 
with  thumb  and  finger  that  forced  him  back,  step  by  step, 
across  the  court.  The  first  flush  of  rage  vanished  from  his 
countenance  and  left  an  expression  of  surprised  impotency, 
his  jaw  working  in  a  futile  effort  to  articulate,  until,  turn 
ing  with  uplifted  hands,  he  fled. 

As  his  door  slammed,  the  breathless  senora  became 
conscious  of  another  man.  A  man  at  the  moment  was  as 
a  flaunt  in  the  face  of  a  maddened  bull,  and  she  turned 
upon  him.  It  was  Pedro.  He  had  watched  the  episode 
from  its  beginning  to  its  close.  Now  he  was  bowing  low, 
cap  in  hand. 

"  Senora  Bolio,"  he  said,  with  great  unction,  "  my  ad 
miration!  My  admiration,  my  homage,  my  reverence! 
My  veneration,  my  stupefaction,  my  awe !  My " 

"  Oh,  drat  thy  gibberings ! "  interrupted  the  senora, 
with  irritation.  "  Be  done  with  thy  bobbing,  and  come 
hither.  Thou  'rt  the  very  man  I  wished  to  see." 

"  Heaven  forfend !  "  murmured  Pedro.  "  Hast  yet 
more  wind?  " 

She  eyed  him  sternly,  then  her  features  gradually  re 
laxed.  "  Not  for  thee,  my  chicken  pie.  But  hearken, 
Pedro.  I  have  news.  This  girl  —  dost  know  it?  —  is  a 
Christian." 

Pedro  stared.  "  No !  "  he  exclaimed.  "  And  't  is  the 
Nusta  Rava?  " 

"  'T  is  she,  and  she  a  Christian,  Pedro,  as  I  live!  And 
she  calleth  for  Father  Tendilla." 

"  For  Father  Tendilla!  Then  stew  me,  she  shall  have 
him!  I '11  fetch  him." 

"  Fetch  him,  Pedro.  Go  at  once."  And  taking  him  by 
the  shoulder,  the  senora  turned  him  toward  the  entrance 
of  the  court.  "  Make  haste,  and,  Adtos" 


276 

Pedro  went  a  few  paces,  and  halted;  reflected  a 
moment,  and  returned.  As  the  senora  looked  back  he 
nodded  toward  Rogelio's  door,  and  approaching  it,  rapped 
vigorously.  There  was  silence,  and  he  pounded  again. 

"  Be  off !  "  came  a  piping  voice,  not  entirely  steady. 

Pedro  pushed  open  the  door,  and  heard  a  scurrying 
within.  "  Be  off,  woman !  I  'm  armed.  Enter  at  thy 
peril ! "  trebled  the  voice.  Pedro  thrust  in  his  head. 
The  -veedor  was  intrenched  behind  his  table,  bathed  in 
perspiration. 

"  Oh,  thy  pardon,  Veedorl  I  thought  thou  didst  bid  me 
enter,"  said  Pedro,  and  closed  the  door  with  a  grin. 

"  Hold,  good  Pedro !  Wait !  Tarry  a  moment,  I  pray 
thee,  my  dear  friend,"  called  the  <veedor,  but  Pedro  was 
gone.  As  he  left  the  court  the  door  opened,  and  Rogelio 
protruded  his  head,  calling  again ;  espied  the  senora  across 
the  court,  and  retired  abruptly. 


CHAPTER  XXIV 
Pedro  Seeks  Tidings  of  Cristoval 

PEDRO  cantered  into  town  and  dismounted  in 
front  of  the  great,  heavily  walled,  low-roofed  edi 
fice  that  had  been  the  Temple  of  the  Sun,  —  the 
Temple  of  the  Sun  for  centuries,  but  now  sur 
mounted  by  a  cross,  the  interior  shorn  of  its  symbols  of 
pagan  worship  and  its  splendor,  and  consecrated  to  the 
Holy  Faith.  Beside  the  gray  old  building  was  the  ancient 
palace  of  the  priestly  attendants,  now  sheltering  the  good 
Father  Tendilla  and  his  assistants  in  the  pious  work  of 
saving  heathen  souls. 

The  gentle-mannered  old  priest  was  shocked  at 
Pedro's  revelation  of  the  <veedor's  iniquity,  and  made  in 
stant  preparations. 

"  Good  Father,"  said  the  cook,  as  he  held  the  stirrup 
for  Tendilla  to  mount,  "  if  you  can  learn  aught  of  Cris 
toval " 

"  I  will,  my  son.  Come  to-night,"  and  the  priest  rode 
away. 

Arrived  at  the  fortress,  he  went  directly  to  the  com 
mandant,  and  in  half  an  hour  was  at  Rogelio's  door  with  a 
squad  of  halberdiers.  It  drew  an  outbreak  of  squeaky  pro 
tests  from  that  worthy,  but  the  priest,  leaving  him  grov 
elling  in  fear  of  the  punishing  hand  of  the  Church,  ordered 
a  sentinel  posted  at  his  door  and  sought  the  senora.  She 
admitted  him  at  once  to  Rava's  room. 

The  girl  was  asleep,  her  tear-stained  cheek  resting 


278 

on  her  clasped  hands.  Even  unconsciousness  did  not  re 
lease  her  from  her  sorrow,  for  she  sighed  heavily  and 
moaned  as  Tendilla  knelt  for  a  brief  prayer  beside  her. 
He  arose,  and  stood  regarding  her  with  compassion.  With 
deeper  compassion  still,  when,  awakening,  she  drew  back 
with  eyes  wide  and  deep  with  the  unutterable  fear  of  a 
creature  hunted  and  caught.  But  her  recognition  of  his 
silvery  hair  and  benevolent  face  was  quick,  and  with  a 
sigh,  the  faintest  smile,  and  a  movement  entirely  queenly, 
she  extended  her  hand.  He  took  it,  and  touching  the  dark 
head,  murmured  a  benediction.  Rava  raised  her  eyes, 
studying  his  with  the  unconscious  intensity  and  directness 
of  gaze  that  had  often  given  Cristoval  the  feeling  that  she 
looked  beyond;  then  the  lines  of  anxiety  softened  into  an 
expression  of  trust.  But  that  kindly  old  face  brought  a 
train  of  recollections  of  dreadful  days,  and  she  turned  away 
in  sudden  weeping.  If  Senora  Bolio  had  at  first  impressed 
Father  Tendilla  with  some  doubt  of  that  lady's  fitness 
for  her  post  beside  the  prisoner,  she  dispelled  it  now  by 
the  tenderness  with  which  she  soothed  the  storm  of 
grief.  With  whispered  words  —  words  that  might  have 
sounded  strangely  enough  to  the  priest  could  he  have  heard 
them  —  she  pressed  the  shaking  form  to  her  bosom,  while 
with  moistened  eyes  he  waited  for  the  return  of  calm. 
When  the  girl  was  able  to  hear  him  he  approached. 

"  My  child,"  he  began,  in  Quichua,  and  Rava  turned 
quickly  with  joy  in  her  tears  at  the  sound  of  the  tongue 
which  she  had  not  heard  since  the  wild  night  at  Xilcala. 
"  My  child,  I  have  come  to  tell  thee  thou  hast  friends,  and 
thy  dangers  are  past.  As  soon  as  thou  'rt  composed  we 
will  go  from  this  unhappy  place  to  one  of  safety,  and  I 
hope  in  a  few  days  to  place  thee  in  thy  brother's  care." 

"  Oh,  Viracocha  —  my  father !  "  she  cried,  rising  and 
nearing  him  with  hands  pressed  to  her  heart.  "  Is  it  true? 
—  is  it  true?  Hath  the  sweet  Virgin  Mother  answered  my 


PEDRO    SEEKS    TIDINGS  279 

prayers?  Ah,  Cristoval  promised  it  would  always  be!  I 
believed  him,  and  it  is  so !  She  hath  heard  me.  She  hath 
not  turned  from  Rava  in  her  sorrow !  "  She  drew  the  cru 
cifix  from  her  bosom  and  kissed  it  passionately.  "  And  he 
said  thou  wast  good,  and  merciful,  and  kind,  my  father. 
Oh,  I  know  it  is  true.  And  thou  wilt  save  me?  Wilt  save 
me?  Wilt  take  me  from  this  wicked  place  —  beyond  the 
reach  of  these  cruel  Viracochas?  Ah,  I  thank  thee, 
Blessed  Mother !  I  thank  thee,  I  thank  thee !  "  and  she 
sank  upon  her  knees,  pressing  the  crucifix  to  her  breast. 

Father  Tendilla  raised  her  gently  and  led  her  back  to 
her  couch.  "  It  is  all  true,  my  daughter.  Thy  prayers  will 
never  be  in  vain.  Now,  compose  thyself,  and  rest  until  I 
return.  I  go  but  for  a  moment." 

He  left  the  room,  offering  earnest  thanks  for  her  faith, 
and  ordered  the  hamaca.  It  was  ready  in  a  moment,  and 
with  the  escort  of  halberdiers,  and  the  resolute  senora 
riding  close  beside  her  litter,  Rava  left  the  fortress. 

Early  in  the  evening  Pedro  went  to  the  priest.  He 
found  his  old  confessor  pacing  the  floor  and  full  of  mild 
enthusiasm. 

"  Ah,  my  son,"  said  the  father,  beaming  upon  his  visi 
tor,  "  we  have  done  a  good  work  this  day.  I  shudder  to 
think  of  the  infinite  wrong  that  might  have  been  but  for 
thy  prompt  action  in  placing  so  rare  a  guardian  as  Senora 
Bolio  over  this  injured  girl,  and  apprising  me  of  her  peril. 
The  senora,  Pedro,  is  a  remarkable  woman.  Where  didst 
find  her?  " 

"  Stew  me !  —  your  pardon,  father  —  I  found  her  not. 
She  found  me  —  as  the  avalanche  findeth  the  wayfarer." 
Pedro  shook  his  head  with  a  trace  of  gloom  in  his  jovial 
face,  adding,  "  Yes,  she  is  a  remarkable  woman.  No 
doubt  of  it !  She  hath  powers  and  attributes,  Father  Ten 
dilla.  But,  the  Nusta  Rava  —  she  doth  well?  " 

"  Much   more   tranquil,   and   though  most   unhappy, 


280  THE    CRIMSON    CONQUEST 

beginneth  to  show  commendable  patience  and  resignation. 
I  have  talked  with  her  as  my  time  allowed,  and  would  say 
from  what  I  have  seen,  Pedro,  that  she  is  one  of  the  earth's 
choicest  blooms.  Poor  Peralta  hath  been  a  humble  agent 
in  her  salvation,  but  his  task  was  well  acquitted,  and  he 
shall  have  many  masses  for  his  soul's  repose." 

"  Ah,  Madre  !"  faltered  Pedro.  "  Then  Cristoval  is 
dead?  " 

Father  Tendilla  shook  his  head  sadly.  "  I  fear  it, 
Pedro.  Duero  hath  so  said  to  Saavedra.  I  have  forborne 
to  ask  the  Nusta,  for  the  mention  of  his  name  seemeth  to 
pierce  her  heart.  Alas !  The  old  sad  story  of  mortal  love 
and  grief." 

Pedro  rose  and  stumped  nervously  about  the  room. 
When  he  seated  himself  again  his  face  was  flushed  and  his 
hands  were  unsteady,  but  he  said  nothing,  and  the  father 
went  on. 

"  I  have  told  the  Nusta  of  thy  part  in  her  rescue, 
Pedro,  and  she  would  see  thee.  She  holdeth  thee  in  kindly 
recollection." 

"  I  am  easily  remembered,"  said  Pedro,  briefly.  "  I  'm 
pegged  in  memories  wherever  I  roam,"  and  he  looked 
glumly  at  his  wooden  leg. 

"  For  more  than  that,  my  son,"  said  the  priest,  kindly. 
"  Peralta  never  forgot  thee,  and  made  the  Nusta  partaker 
in  full  of  his  affection.  But  thou  must  see  her  soon  —  not 
to-morrow,  for  she  is  much  in  need  of  quiet ;  but  possiblv 
on  the  day  following." 

"Bfen  /"  said  Pedro,  and  his  voice  was  hoarse. 

"  And  now,"  continued  Tendilla,  "  we  must  communi 
cate  with  the  Inca  Manco." 

"  No  better  way  than  by  chasqtti"  said  the  cook, 
"  though  there  is  uncertainty  of  his  reaching  Cuzco.  It 
is  said  there  are  roving  bands  of  Quitoans  —  remnants  of 
Atahualpa's  troops  —  still  in  the  mountains.  Since 


PEDRO   SEEKS   TIDINGS  281 

Manco's  coronation  they  have  been   hostile.     But  have 
you  learned,  father,  where  the  Nusta  was  found?  " 

"  Only  that  the  place  is  called  Xilcala,  and  is  some 
six  days'  march  from  here." 

"  Xilcala,"  repeated  Pedro,  and  fixed  the  name  in  his 
memory.  When  he  pegged  back  to  his  cantina  he  medi 
tated  a  purpose. 

Two  days  later  the  cook  was  admitted  to  Rava's 
presence.  She  was  expecting  him,  and  if  he  had  been  dis 
posed  to  think  disparagingly  of  the  grounds  on  which  he 
was  favored  in  her  recollection,  his  modesty  was  gently 
reproved  by  her  evident  pleasure.  He  found  her  changed. 
Her  pallor  was  sadly  heightened,  and  the  proud  fire  had 
gone  from  the  dark  eyes.  Sorrow  seemed  indelibly  im 
pressed  upon  the  gentle  face;  but  with  it  a  dignity 
strangely  at  variance  with  her  youthfulness,  and  a  refine 
ment  of  beauty  almost  startling  to  the  good  Pedro,  who 
whispered  to  himself,  "  Blessed  saints !  't  is  the  face  of  an 
angel."  As  she  greeted  him  her  eyes  lighted  with  a  faint 
smile,  but  he  noted  with  a  twinge  the  quiver  of  lip  and  chin 
and  the  scarcely  controlled  tremor  in  her  voice. 

"  Ah,  Pedro,"  she  said,  after  bidding  him  to  sit,  and 
observing  the  diffidence  in  his  honest  eyes,  "  Father  Ten- 
dilla  hath  told  me  all.  I  would  that  I  could  tell  thee  my 
gratitude,  but  thou  knowest.  Thou  didst  come  to  mine 
aid  at  the  moment  of  despair,  when  I  thought  that  even 
Heaven  had  forsaken  me." 

"  I  have  done  naught,  Nusta  Rava.  Father  Tendilla 
and  the  senora " 

"  Thou  didst  send  them,  Pedro ;  and  it  is  twice,  now, 
that  I  have  owed  thee  the  means  of  my  rescue.  But  for 

thy  help  at  Caxamalca "    She  shuddered,  then  presently 

went  on :  "I  know  how  our  escape  was  made  possible,  my 
friend.  Cristoval  —  Cristoval  told  me.  Ah,  Pedro,  he 
loved  thee  well ! "  A  choking  sob  shook  her  frame,  and 


282  THE    CRIMSON    CONQUEST 

covering  her  face  with  her  hands,  she  tnrued  toward 
Sefiora  Bolio,  who  hastened  to  her  side.  Poor  Pedro 
dashed  his  hand  across  his  eyes,  and  sat  bolt  upright, 
his  lips  compressed.  In  a  moment  Rava  was  able  to 
proceed. 

"  He  spoke  of  thee  often,  Pedro." 

Pedro  bent  forward.  "  Nusta  Rava,  is  there  no  hope 
that  Cristoval  still  liveth?  Do  you  know  that  it  cannot 
be?" 

"  Oh,  I  know  not,  I  know  not !  Once,  on  that  dreadful 
night,  I  thought  I  heard  his  voice  rising  above  the  clamor. 
I  heard  no  more."  She  covered  her  eyes  as  if  to  shut  out 
the  memory  of  the  horror. 

Pedro  silently  cursed  himself  for  the  stupidity  of  the 
question,  and  it  was  moments  before  he  could  say  some 
thing  to  divert  her.  He  did  so  at  last,  and  soon  took  his 
leave.  Rava  said  earnestly,  "  Thou  'It  come  again,  good 
Pedro?" 

"  I  '11  come  again,  Nusta  Rava ;  and  meanwhile,  keep 
courage."  He  added  to  himself  as  he  crossed  the  court, 
"  I  would  I  might  say,  hope !  Ay  de  mi,  Cristoval !  if  I 
could  but  know." 

He  tarried  at  the  cantina  only  while  Pedrillo  was  sad 
dling  his  mule,  then  mounted  and  struck  toward  the  for 
tress.  Again  his  errand  lay  beyond;  and  he  drew  rein 
at  the  haasi  of  Municancha.  The  old  Indio  gave  him  wel 
come,  and  to  him  Pedro  narrated  Rava's  flight  from  Caxa- 
malca  with  the  gallant  Viracocha  Cristoval.  He  told  of 
her  recent  perils  and  deliverance,  and  begged  Municancha's 
aid  in  learning  from  Xilcala  whether  the  good  soldier 
still  lived,  and  if  not,  where  lay  his  grave.  He  found  a 
willing  helper.  The  old  man,  overjoyed  by  the  news  of  the 
safety  of  Rava,  who  had  been  mourned  as  dead  throughout 
the  empire,  did  not  hesitate.  He  had  a  nephew,  Ocallo. 
Ocallo  was  summoned.  He  would  gladly  accompany, 


PEDRO    SEEKS    TIDINGS  283 

would  organize  a  company  at  once,  and  would  be  ready  to 
start  the  following  dawn.  They  agreed  upon  a  meeting 
place,  and  having  enjoined  secrecy,  Pedro  rode  back  to 
Xauxa,  grateful  to  the  peg  which  had  won  him  so  good  a 
friend  as  Municancha. 

Night  had  fallen  before  he  reached  the  town.  He 
told  his  plan  to  Father  Tendilla,  arranged  for  his  absence, 
received  the  confessor's  blessing,  and  departed  to  prepare 
for  the  journey.  Pedro  worked  late,  completed  his  prepa 
rations,  and  lay  down  for  a  few  hours'  sleep.  Long  before 
dawn  he  was  up,  and  having  breakfasted,  was  assisted 
by  Pedrillo  to  arm.  His  mule  was  brought,  and  with  a  few 
parting  instructions,  he  was  away.  In  half  an  hour  he 
was  clear  of  the  town,  on  the  road  going  north.  A  brisk 
trot  for  a  mile  or  more,  and  he  halted  at  a  cross-road.  A 
dim  figure  rose  out  of  the  darkness  and  was  hailed  by 
Pedro  in  Quichua.  After  a  brief  greeting,  the  man  sum 
moned  half-a-dozen  companions  from  a  thicket  beside  the 
road. 

"  Are  we  all  here?  "  asked  Pedro,  looking  over  the 
group. 

"  All  here,  Viracocha  —  four  archers  and  two  car 
riers,"  replied  the  one  who  had  first  approached. 

"  Good !  Then  we  will  move.  Take  the  lead,  Ocallo. 
We  should  be  well  in  the  mountains  before  the  light." 

Thus  Pedro  set  out  on  his  search  for  Cristoval. 


CHAPTER  XXV 
A  Glimpse  of  Cuzco 

THE  interest  at  first  aroused  by  Pedro's  disap 
pearance  gradually  subsided,  and  was  suddenly 
forgotten  for  a  time,  in  the  excitement  following 
upon  another  departure.  This  was  attended  by 
tragic  circumstance.  Fray  Mauricio,  having  established 
himself  at  Xauxa,  at  once  denounced  Jose  to  the  com 
mandant,  Saavedra,  as  a  heretic,  demanding  his  arrest. 
Saavedra,  intimidated  by  threats  of  the  Inquisition's  ven 
geance,  unwillingly  consented.  He  was  not  prompt,  how 
ever,  and  word  of  the  friar's  efforts  reached  the  armorer, 
who  was  almost  recovered  from  his  fever.  The  next 
morning  Mauricio  was  found  in  his  quarters,  stabbed  to 
the  heart.  Jose  had  vanished. 

Search  was  made  in  the  town  and  neighboring  moun 
tains,  but  no  trace  of  the  armorer  was  found,  and  as  no 
reward  was  offered,  the  hunt  was  given  up. 

Pedro's  absence  was  not  unnoted  by  Rava,  however, 
and  her  gratitude  for  his  devotion  and  services  inspired 
her  persistent  inquiries.  To  these  Father  Tendilla  made 
evasive  replies,  deeming  it  unwise  to  suggest  a  hope  which 
would  probably  renew  her  anguish  when  Pedro  returned. 
But  to  Sefiora  Bolio,  so  much  exercised  that  she  even  pro 
posed  to  take  the  field  in  search  of  the  cook,  he  confided  his 
mission,  perplexed  at  that  lady's  attitude,  which  seemed 
too  resolute  to  imply  tenderness,  but  which  nevertheless 
indicated  something  more  than  mere  solicitude.  Even  had 
the  good  father  been  better  versed  in  the  gentle  passion  as 


A    GLIMPSE   OF    CUZCO  285 

manifested  in  the  feminine  breast,  the  senora's  symptoms 
might  easily  have  balked  his  diagnosis.  When  she  learned 
that  Pedro  had  left  Xauxa  she  suspected  it  was  prompted 
by  his  unconquerable  coyness,  and  shocked  the  mild 
priest  by  a  characteristic  opinion  of  the  apparent  treachery. 
But,  apprised  of  the  fact,  she  melted  in  a  manner  no  less 
surprising,  blew  her  nose  violently  to  abort  a  threatened 
tear,  and  broke  into  eulogy  even  more  emphatic  than  her 
denunciation. 

Rava's  spiritual  growth  had  been  such  as  to  rejoice 
the  good  missionary's  heart.  She  turned  now  with  all  the 
emotion  born  of  grief,  the  yearning  of  a  heart  bereft,  the 
ardent  faith  of  a  sincere  and  ingenuous  mind,  to  the  Mater 
Dolorosa  and  the  Redeemer.  Obedient  to  her  preceptor, 
she  conquered  the  despair  which  he  saw  was  menacing 
her  life  itself.  She  found  divine  consolation,  and  in  its 
realization  her  belief  received  new  strength.  She  was 
baptized  and  received  the  sacrament.  The  occasion  was 
one  of  utmost  solemnity,  and  the  garrison  attended  in 
body.  The  little  flock  of  native  converts  and  as  many 
more  of  the  people  of  Xauxa  as  the  walls  of  the  church 
would  hold,  gathered  to  see  the  daughter  of  an  Inca  re 
pudiate  the  gods  of  her  fathers  in  their  ancient  temple. 

One  morning  Father  Tendilla  hastened  to  Rava  with 
the  news  that  a  chasqui  had  arrived  from  Cuzco,  announ 
cing  that  the  Inca  Manco  had  despatched  an  escort  to  con 
vey  her  to  the  capital.  Not  many  days  later  the  sun  rose 
upon  a  city  of  tents  on  the  plain  outside  the  town.  The 
escort  had  arrived  at  nightfall  the  day  before  —  battalions 
of  the  Incarial  Guard,  a  hundred  nobles,  a  throng  of  maids 
for  the  Nusta's  attendance,  and  a  long  train  of  camp  ser 
vants,  hamaca  bearers,  and  carriers  for  the  baggage.  That 
morning  the  sacerdotal  palace  was  a-glitter  with  the  richly 
costumed  members  of  the  royal  suite,  bringing  the  Inca 
Manco's  brotherly  greetings  and  their  own  homage  to  the 


286  THE    CRIMSON    CONQUEST 

restored  princess.  Rava's  simpler  life  was  of  the  past,  and 
once  more  she  was  a  Daughter  of  the  Sun. 

A  fortnight  later  the  cortege  of  the  Nusta  was  de 
scending  by  the  great  Chinchasuyu  Road  into  the  valley 
of  Cuzco.  As  the  column  emerged  from  the  pass,  and  the 
fertile  bolson  opened  out  below,  Rava  drew  aside  the  cur 
tains  of  the  hamaca>  The  arid  slope  dropped  for  hundreds 
of  feet  to  the  uppermost  terraces  of  the  andenes  which 
clung  to  the  mountain-sides  and  ended  with  their  green 
the  bleak  wilderness  of  eroded  rock.  Beyond  these  the 
rolling  floor  of  the  valley,  traversed  by  the  stream  Cachi- 
mayo;  and  on  the  left,  rising  abruptly  from  the  plain, 
crowned  by  the  ramparts  and  towers  of  its  huge  fortress, 
loomed  the  sullen  mass  of  the  hill  Sachsahuaman.  At  its 
feet  lay  Cuzco,  the  "  Navel,"  the  centre  of  the  universe, 
the  ancient  capital  of  the  Incas ;  and  still  farther  away,  the 
bastions  of  the  gigantic  circumvallation  of  the  Cordillera, 
its  peaks  delicately  outlined  against  the  azure  of  the  cloud 
less  sky  or  the  white  of  more  distant  snow-clad  summits. 

A  faint  haziness  overhung  the  valley,  with  filmy 
spirals  of  white  smoke  rising  languidly  above  the  roofs 
into  the  air,  a-quiver  with  the  warmth  of  the  lowland  and 
lending  lightness  and  unreality  to  the  almost  dreamlike 
splendor  of  the  capital.  It  seemed  not  of  the  West.  The 
bright  walls  of  dwellings,  the  glare  of  street  and  plaza, 
the  green  of  interior  court  and  garden,  and  the  gold  of  the 
roofs  of  palace  and  temple,  were  blended  by  distance  into 
a  harmonious  beauty  which  might  have  belonged  rather  to 
some  metropolis  of  the  fabled  Orient. 

As  her  escort  wound  slowly  down,  Rava  looked  for 
ward  with  throbbing  heart,  her  eyes  seeking  in  the  con 
fusion  of  roofs  the  spots  endeared  to  her  by  lifelong 
association.  The  palace,  the  Amarucancha,  was  easily 
found  on  the  great  square,  and  even  her  own  court  with  its 
shade  of  quinuars.  Beyond  gleamed  the  golden  roof  of  the 


A   GLIMPSE   OF   CUZCO  287 

Temple  of  the  Sun,  now  to  her  a  symbol  of  the  darkness 
from  which  she  had  been  led  by  loving  hands,  and  whence 
she  felt  it  her  mission  to  rescue  others.  A  turn  hid  the  city 
from  view,  and  she  leaned  back  with  closed  eyes  until  the 
rhythmical  tramp  of  the  companies  was  echoed  by  the 
walls  of  houses,  and  she'  heard  the  murmur  of  a  multitude. 
The  street  was  full  of  her  people,  and  as  she  looked  from 
the  hamaca  they  raised  a  mighty  shout,  waving  hands  and 
brightly  colored  scarfs  and  showering  her  with  flowers. 
Her  heart  was  full  as  she  smiled  back  their  greetings,  and 
in  her  joy  over  theirs  at  beholding  her  again  she  could 
have  embraced  the  humblest. 

Far  down  the  street  the  bristling  column  of  spears 
turned  to  the  left,  and  the  thunder  of  the  drums  at  its 
head  grew  faint,  to  rise  again  as  her  hamaca  reached  the 
corner.  Now  she  could  see  the  plaza  with  its  expectant 
crowds,  and  shortly  she  emerged  from  the  narrow  way, 
while  waiting  companies  fell  in  on  the  right  and  left  to 
form  a  hollow  square.  Suddenly  her  eyes  rested  upon  a 
group  of  bearded  faces  crowded  close  to  the  lines,  and  she 
drew  back  into  the  shadow  of  the  hamaca.  They  stared 
with  quiet  insolence,  and  others  were  elbowing  through  the 
throng  from  the  direction  of  a  building  on  the  farther  side 
of  the  square,  over  whose  door  she  saw  with  sinking  heart 
the  flag  of  Spain  and  the  dark  colors  of  the  Army  of  the 
Conquest.  In  front  of  the  building  was  a  picketed  line  of 
horses  and  a  loitering  knot  of  Spaniards.  Rava  turned 
away  with  a  shiver,  her  brief  happiness  gone. 

Before  the  Amarucancha  the  escort  halted,  and  pass 
ing  a  double  line  of  kneeling  nobles,  the  Nusta  was  borne 
beneath  the  sculptured  serpents.  The  first  court  was 
crowded,  but  she  had  barely  time  for  a  glance  before  her 
hands  were  seized  by  the  Auqui  Paullo,  her  younger 
brother,  who  had  sprung  to  the  side  of  the  hamaca.  Rava 
embraced  him  fondly  and  was  about  to  alight  when  she 


288  THE   CRIMSON   CONQUEST 

saw  a  familiar,  swarthy  countenance  near  the  door  of  the 
audience  chamber.  The  owner  was  looking  intently,  and 
as  he  caught  her  eyes,  doffed  his  sombrero  and  started  for 
ward.  Her  heart  seemed  to  cease  beating.  Paullo  was 
startled  by  her  suddenly  heightened  pallor. 

"  Great  Inti !  "  he  cried,  in  alarm.  "  What  is  it,  Rava? 
Art  ill?  " 

She  grasped  his  arm  convulsively.  "  Quick,  oh, 
quick !  "  she  gasped.  "  Order  my  bearers  forward  —  to 
my  apartments !  "  and  she  sank,  almost  fainting,  into  the 
shadow  of  the  curtains.  Mendoza  halted  with  a  shrug  as 
the  hatnaca  was  raised,  replaced  his  sombrero,  and  turned 
back.  "  By  the  demon !  "  he  muttered,  with  an  unpleasant 
smile,  "  our  haughty  Senorita  Nusta  seemeth  to  disdain 
old  acquaintance.  No  imporial  No  imperial  There  are 
other  days  to  follow." 

As  he  entered  the  hall  he  cast  a  glance  over  his  shoul 
der  at  the  hamaca  just  disappearing  into  another  court,  and 
clicked  his  tongue  in  his  cheek. 


CHAPTER  XXVI 
The  Inca  Manco 

IGNORING  the  salutes  of  the  two  sentinels  of  the 
royal  guard,  Mendoza  lounged  into  the  audience  room 
and  stood  leaning  against  the  wall  near  the  door.  It 

was  a  spacious  apartment,  resplendent  with  the  usual 
profusion  and  wealth  of  mural  decorationt  thus  far  left  un 
disturbed  by  Pizarro's  rapacious  followers.  At  the  farther 
end  of  the  hall  an  assemblage  of  natives  stood  at  some  dis 
tance  from  the  throne,  on  which  was  seated  the  young  Inca 
Manco.  Behind  him  stood  a  group  of  nobles,  and  at  his 
side,  on  a  lower  seat,  was  Almagro,  commandant  of  the 
city  in  the  absence  of  Pizarro,  then  on  an  expedition  to  the 
coast.  On  the  left  of  the  throne,  in  the  front  line  of  nobles, 
were  Juan  and  Gonzalo  Pizarro,  recently  superseded  in 
command  by  Almagro,  and  now  alcaldes  of  Cuzco.  These 
three  officials,  with  eight  Spanish  regidores,  constituted 
the  municipal  government  established  by  Pizarro.  To  the 
Inca  had  been  left  the  insignia  of  sovereignty,  and  little 
more.  He  had  the  privilege  of  his  councils  and  the  conduct 
of  his  realm  so  far  as  these  did  not  conflict  with  Spanish 
interests ;  but,  as  now,  the  Conquistadors  were  at  his  elbow 
in  humiliating  censorship. 

The  Inca  Manco  was  a  youth  of  twenty  years,  though 
his  serious  and  resolute  expression  made  him  look  more 
mature.  He  resembled  his  half-brother  Atahualpa,  but  his 
countenance,  of  a  finer  type,  was  lacking  in  the  other's 
fierceness,  and  in  its  delicate  modelling  was  more  like  that 

19 


2go  THE   CRIMSON    CONQUEST 

of  the  Nusta  Rava.  As  he  sat  listening  to  the  caracaof  a 
distant  town  who  had  brought  a  case  for  adjudication,  he 
wore  an  air  of  thoughtful  gloom.  The  lines  of  care  about 
his  mouth  and  eyes  vanished  when  he  spoke,  announcing 
his  judgment  in  brisk,  quiet  tones,  full  of  decision  and  con 
fidence.  The  decree  was  favorable  to  the  speaker,  and  as 
the  latter  uttered  his  gratitude  the  Inca  spoke  again  briefly 
and  in  lowered  voice,  his  face  alight  with  a  trace  of  pleas 
ure.  The  curaca.  retired,  and  the  next,  an  aged  man,  ad 
vanced  with  hesitation,  and  having  knelt  with  head  bowed 
to  the  floor,  seemed  unable  to  finish  his  obeisance,  but 
remained  prostrate.  The  Inca  said  kindly,  the  customary 
address  strangely  inconsistent  with  their  disparity  of 
age,  "  Rise,  my  son,  rise !  We  are  waiting." 

The  old  man  rose  painfully,  and  in  a  voice  unsteady 
with  age  and  emotion,  told  of  outrage  that  brought  hot 
blood  to  his  sovereign's  cheek.  The  night  before  —  he  had 
been  waiting  all  day  to  make  his  complaint  —  his  house 
had  been  broken  into  by  a  Viracocha  soldier,  and  his  grand 
daughter  carried  away.  His  voice  rose  as  he  finished,  and 
he  tottered  forward  to  the  dais,  extending  his  trembling 
old  hands  in  appeal. 

"  In  the  name  of  the  God  who  shineth  in  mercy  upon  us 
both,  Sapa  Inca,  I  pray  to  you  for  vengeance!  She  is  but 
a  child  —  a  mere  child  —  and  the  light  of  mine  old  life. 
Grant  that  your  just  wrath  shall  fall  upon  the  head 
accursed  of  the  son  of  that  wholly  accursed  race." 

The  Inca  had  started  partly  to  his  feet,  his  dark  eyes 
ablaze.  He  sat  again.  "  Where  is  the  girl?  "  he  demanded, 
hoarsely. 

"  Cowering  in  the  darkest  corner  of  the  darkest  cham 
ber  of  her  home,  Sapa  Inca  —  half  mad  —  a  blighted  bud 
—  a  blemished  pearl !  "  He  turned  abruptly  upon  Almagro, 
who,  unacquainted  with  the  Quichua,  had  given  him  little 
heed,  lolling  wearily  in  his  chair. 


THE   INCA    MANCO  291 

"  O,  thou  Viracocha,  offspring  of  Supay ! "  cried  the 
old  Indio,  shaking  his  clenched  hands  toward  the  Spaniard, 
"  dost  yawn  at  my  sorrow,  monster?  Hast  the  heart  of 
a  wolf  —  thou  who  wearest  the  aspect  of  a  man?  May  the 
great  Inti  strike  thee  with  thrice  my  grief,  thrice  mine 
infirmities !  " 

Almagro,  listening  with  some  surprise  to  the  violent 
apostrophe,  looked  toward  the  younger  Pizarro :  "  What 
saith  he,  Juan?  " 

"  By  God,  he  hath  told  a  tale  of  bitter  wrong,  Diego !  " 
responded  the  other,  vehemently.  "  One  of  our  men  hath 
stolen  his  girl.  It  calleth  for  the  garrote,  or  I  'm  an 
Ethiopian !  " 

Almagro  sat  up  and  glanced  quickly  at  the  Inca,  who 
raised  his  hand  to  silence  the  complainant,  and  was  now 
regarding  the  commandant  with  stern  eyes  and  burning 
cheeks. 

"  Viracocha  Almagro,"  said  Manco,  "  before  thy  gen 
eral  went  from  Cuzco  he  engaged  that  neither  house  nor 
person  of  my  subjects  should  suffer  violation.  Thy  soldier 
hath  committed  a  crime  which  is  punished  in  Tavantinsuyu 
with  death.  I  look  to  thee  for  vindication." 

"  Why,  blood  and  wounds !  "  exclaimed  the  cavalier, 
when  Manco's  words  had  been  translated.  "  Tell  him, 
Juan,  that  we  will  indemnify  with  —  Fiends!  but  these 
people  set  no  store  by  money.  Say,  then,  that  we  will 
punish  with  any  just  severity  —  short  of  death.  That  is 
out  of  reason." 

The  Inca's  eyes  were  fixed  steadily  upon  Almagro 
while  the  answer  was  being  made  known  to  him.  "  Vira 
cocha,"  he  said  coldly,  "  this  outrage  is  not  the  first  of  its 
kind.  Now,  I  demand  the  penalty  of  death." 

Almagro's  scarred  face  flushed  as  his  single  eye  met 
the  Inca's  frown,  and  he  replied  bluntly :  "  I  refuse !  Tell 
him  I  refuse,  Juan.  We'll  make  what  reparation  lieth 


292  THE    CRIMSON    CONQUEST 

within  our  power,  but  curse  me  if  we  '11  waste  a  soldier  at 
any  man's  behest ! "  and  Almagro  glanced  defiantly  from 
the  Inca  to  the  stern  faces  of  his  nobles. 

Manco  rose  abruptly,  dismissed  his  court  with  a  few 
quick  words,  and  left  the  dais.  As  he  passed  the  old  man 
he  spoke  to  him  in  an  undertone,  and  touching  his  white 
head  lightly  as  he  sank  upon  his  knees,  moved  toward 
the  door,  followed  by  his  suite. 

Almagro  sprang  to  his  feet.  "  How  now,  my  puppet 
king!  Dost  turn  us  an  angry  back?  For  the  price  of  a 
breath  of  air  I  'd  trim  the  fringe  from  thy  toy  of  a 
diadem!" 

"  Not  so  loud,  Diego ! "  remonstrated  Juan  Pizarro. 
"  He  hath  good  offence.  I  tell  thee,  we  are  not  wise  to 
make  light  of  this  soldier's  trespass,  amigo.  One  such 
outrage  unpunished  will  breed  a  thousand,  and  before  we 
are  aware  the  country  will  be  about  our  ears.  'T  is  a  cut 
at  their  tenderest  sensibility.  I  say,  hang  the  knave  and 
keep  the  peace." 

"  Kill  a  good  fighting  man  for  the  sake  of  a  twig  of 
a  heathen  girl !  Thou  'rt  mad,  Juan.  I  had  as  lief  sacrifice 
a  horse.  We'll  iron  him  for  forty  days,  and  the  matter 
will  be  forgotten.  Come!  Set  the  business  afoot.  Have 
a  public  trial  and  advertise  thy  zeal,  then  keep  the  affair 
hanging  until  interest  is  worn  out.  Parade  justice  for 
a  week,  and  these  varlets  will  forget  their  grievance. 
Vamosl"  They  left  the  empty  hall,  and  indifferent  to  the 
dark  looks  of  the  throng  in  front  of  the  palace,  sought  their 
quarters  in  the  old  palace  of  the  Inca  Tupac  Yupanqui. 

With  the  few  nobles  so  privileged,  Manco  went  to  his 
apartments.  Controlling  his  agitation,  he  faced  his  coun 
sellors.  For  a  moment  he  studied  each,  reading  under  their 
impassiveness  the  fire  smouldering  in  his  own  breast.  In 
the  group  was  Villaoma,  the  Villac  Vmu,  or  high  priest  of 
the  empire,  most  sagacious  of  his  advisers,  as  he  had  been 


THE    INCA    MANGO  293 

before  to  Huayna  Capac  and  to  the  ill-fated  Huascar.  The 
old  priest  met  his  look  with  one  of  keen  scrutiny.  Manco 
had  been  his  favorite,  and  from  boyhood  had  been  watched 
with  an  interest  as  deep  and  hopeful  as  if  of  his  own  flesh 
and  blood.  Manco's  admission  to  the  military  order  came 
when  Cuzco  was  prostrate  before  the  conqueror  Atahualpa, 
her  armies  scattered,  and  the  Inca  Huascar  a  prisoner  in 
the  fortress  at  Xauxa.  When  Pizarro,  after  the  death  of 
Atahualpa,  marched  upon  the  capital  with  the  new  Inca, 
Toparca,  Manco  reassembled  the  forces  of  Cuzco  and  pre 
pared  for  resistance.  Following  the  counsel  of  the  Villac 
Vmu,  Prince  Manco  had  suspended  hostilities  after  Topar- 
ca's  death  and  laid  before  Pizarro  his  own  claim  to  the 
imperial  llautu,  temporarily  humiliating  himself  to  forestall 
such  other  pretender  as  this  king-maker  might  advance. 
If  he  had  underestimated  the  cost  of  this  surrender  of 
dignity  to  policy,  the  Villac  Vmu  did  not  share  his  mis 
take  ;  and  when  the  monarch  presently  realized  the  penalty 
for  his  pawned  manhood,  the  stings  of  injured  pride,  the 
chafing  under  arrogance,  and  the  wounds  of  slighted  maj 
esty,  it  was  with  difficulty  that  the  priest  restrained  a 
premature  outbreak.  Now  he  saw  the  fire  long  kept  in 
check  burning  near  the  surface.  He  held  his  peace,  how 
ever,  and  Manco  said  merely :  — 

"  I  would  have  thee  come  hither  to-night,  Villac  Vmu, 
after  the  third  watch  —  and  you,  my  generals,  Quehuar, 
Mayta,  and  Mocho.  And  come  prepared  to  counsel  no 
longer  caution,  delay,  but  —  action !  "  The  effect  of  the 
last  word  was  electrical  —  but  as  a  flash  of  heat  lightning, 
and  as  silent.  It  brightened  their  dark  faces  and  fierce  eyes 
for  an  instant,  and  was  gone.  But  he  knew  them  well,  this 
young  warrior-emperor;  expected  no  reply,  nor  wished  it. 
Presently  he  was  alone. 

The  lamps  were  being  lighted  before  Manco  was  in 
a  mood  to  greet  the  Nusta  Rava.  He  sent  a  page  to  advise 


THE   CRIMSON    CONQUEST 

her  of  his  coming,  requesting  that  she  be  alone.  After  the 
youth  had  gone,  he  stood  at  his  table  with  eyes  bent  mood 
ily  upon  the  floor ;  then  with  quick  impulse  lifted  the  llaatu. 
from  his  head,  laid  it  aside,  and  quitted  the  apartment. 

The  evening  was  quiet  and  warm,  but  at  that  hour  the 
several  courts  were  almost  deserted,  and  he  walked  slowly, 
encountering  few  but  the  frequent  sentinels  posted  since 
the  coming  of  the  Spaniards.  Through  intermediate  patios, 
he  gained  the  establishment  devoted  to  the  suite  of  Rava 
and  her  younger  sisters,  the  Nustas  Ocllo  and  Alcaya, 
halting  near  a  door  through  which  came  the  notes  of  a 
tinya  and  of  some  fair  one  singing.  The  song  was  a  sad 
one,  and  he  walked  on,  thinking  of  the  days  when  these 
gloomy  courts  were  enlivened  with  music  and  laughter 
from  hearts  untouched  by  care.  Would  those  days  come 
again  to  the  brooding  old  Amarucancha?  —  to  stricken 
Cuzco?  The  question  was  like  the  thrust  of  a  dagger,  self- 
administered.  Was  not  this  air  of  sadness,  this  pervading 
gloom,  directly  due  to  his  own  supineness?  Was  not  its 
source  in  his  weak,  nay,  criminal,  submission  to  the  Vira- 
cochas.  Ah,  why  was  he  lingering,  inactive,  under  the 
goading  of  every  crying  hour?  Why  did  he  rest  an  instant 
while  there  remained  an  enemy  in  Cuzco,  or  in  all 
Tavantinsuyu? 

He  came  to  Rava's  door,  and  passed  it;  returned  and 
passed  it  again  and  again,  the  sweat  starting  under  the 
flagellation  of  his  conscience.  How  could  he  face  the  noble 
girl  within?  What  would  she  say  of  the  Cuzco  she  had 
left  so  fair:  now  so  shorn  of  its  glories?  Would  she  not 
reproach  him,  and  justly?  And  could  she  do  otherwise 
than  attribute  to  his  neglect  the  suffering  and  dangers 
from  which  she  had  just  escaped?  He  must  explain  — 
without  another  second  of  delay,  he  must  explain! 

He  recrossed  the  court  impetuously,  and  pushing  open 
the  door  without  ceremony,  entered  the  room.  Rava  arose, 


THE   INCA    MANCO  295 

startled,  and  hurried  forward  with  a  cry  of  joy,  alarmed 
again  when  she  saw  his  pallor  and  the  drawn  lines  of  his 
countenance.  But  there  was  no  reproach  in  her  tone  or 
bearing,  only  affection  and  gladness,  and  he  embraced  her 
with  nervous  fervor. 

Rava's  arms  were  about  his  neck.  "  Oh,  my  brother ! 
Oh,  my  brother  1  Do  I  really  see  thee  again?  Manco! 
Manco!  How  many,  many  times  in  these  long  months 
have  I  feared  —  but  fears  are  gone.  How  thou  hast 
changed,  my  dear  I  Thou 'rt  troubled!  Ah,  me  —  "  she 
stopped,  regarding  him  with  surprised  concern.  "  Where 
is  thy  llautu,  Manco?  Why  dost  not  wear  it?  " 

He  reddened  painfully  as  he  kissed  her  forehead  again. 
"I  —  I  have  laid  it  aside  to-night,"  he  said  quickly,  seating 
himself  beside  her.  "  To-night,  I  am  Manco  —  not  the 
Inca,  my  dearest." 

"  But  I  would  have  seen  thee  wearing  it.  It  should 
never  be  laid  aside,  save  in  privacy,  brother  dear ;  and  thou 
wouldst  still  have  been  Manco  to  Rava,  thou  knowest  well. 
That  is  not  the  reason." 

He  looked  at  her  with  troubled  eyes. 

"  Why  didst  thou  leave  it?  "  she  persisted,  studying 
his  face. 

"  I  have  told  thee,  Rava.  I  have  put  it  by  that  I  might 
be  to  thee  only  Manco,  as  of  old." 

The  lightness  of  his  words  was  forced,  and  Rava  saw 
it.  "  Nay,  it  is  not  that,"  she  said,  gently.  "  Tell  me 
why." 

His  eyes  left  hers,  and  she  laid  a  hand  upon  his  arm. 
"  Tell  me  why,  Manco."  He  rose,  but  she  detained  him ; 
and  a  glance  at  her  anxious  face  forced  a  confession.  He 
hesitated,  then  said  with  an  effort :  "  I  will  tell  thee  why, 
Rava.  It  is  because  —  oh,  may  the  souls  of  the  departed 
Incas  look  mercifully  upon  me !  —  it  is  because  —  it  is 
stained,  my  sister:  debased  and  dishonored!  It  came  to 


296  THE   CRIMSON    CONQUEST 

me  not  from  the  hands  of  a  priest  of  the  Sun,  but  placed 
upon  my  head  by  the  foul  hand  of  a  Viracocha.  O,  thou 
great  Inti,  why  was  I  suffered  to  live  to  bring  this  shame 
upon  my  line?  I  wear  the  llaafa,  and  look  thou,  Rava, 
the  shadow  of  a  Viracocha  resteth  ever  upon  my  throne. 
When  I  speak  to  my  people  a  Viracocha  speaketh,  and  my 
voice  is  drowned.  My  laws  have  ceased  to  be.  The  very 
dogs  of  the  streets  look  dumb  question  of  mine  authority." 
His  words  failed,  but  he  resumed,  his  voice  strained  with 
agony :  "  But  worse  —  worse  hath  befallen  Tavantinsuyu. 
They  have  violated  the  Temple  of  the  Sun,  stripped  it  of 
its  splendor,  and  polluted  its  halls.  They  have  cast  down 
the  silent  forms  of  our  fathers,  ravished  of  their  sacred 
insignia.  The  golden  effigy  of  the  Sun  hath  been  torn  from 
the  wall,  crushed  into  ruin  by  Viracocha  feet,  and  carried 
away  to  be  gambled  for.  The  gardens  have  been  despoiled, 
and  not  one  hand's-breadth  of  their  hallowed  soil  hath  been 
left  unturned  by  these  destroyers  in  their  ravening  for 
gold.  The  Inti-pampa  is  a  desolation.  Ah,  Rava,  Rava, 
ask  me  not  why  I  lay  aside  the  ttaatv  I  Ask  me,  rather,  how 
I  dare  to  wear  it !  Ask  why  the  Sun  doth  rise  and  set  upon 
my  profanation !  " 

He  covered  his  face  with  his  hands.  Rava  sat  very 
still.  She  was  prepared  for  his  tale  of  ravage,  and  was  less 
shocked  by  his  words  than  by  the  intensity  of  his  agitation. 
A  strong  man's  anguish  is  always  terrible  to  a  woman  or 
a  child,  and  the  stoicism  of  the  Peruvian  made  this  out 
burst  the  more  harrowing.  She  stepped  to  his  side  and  put 
her  arms  about  his  neck.  The  unspoken  sympathy  gave 
him  strength,  and  he  controlled  himself  and  went  on  more 
calmly. 

"  Ah,  my  dearest  sister,  the  sacredness  of  Cuzco  is  no 
more !  Its  palaces  have  been  despoiled.  The  beasts  of  the 
Viracochas  defile  the  halls  of  the  Yupanquis.  These  very 
decorations  on  the  walls  that  shelter  thee  are  here  only  on 


THE   INCA    MANCO  297 

sufferance."  He  paused  long  enough  to  steady  his  voice, 
pressing  her  hand  to  stay  her  from  speaking.  "  A  moment 
more,  my  dear,  and  I  have  done.  I  have  told  thee  only  of 
Cuzco.  The  cloud  that  darkeneth  her  sunshine  hath  spread 
to  the  four  quarters  of  the  empire.  Quito  hath  fallen. 
Daily,  as  came  the  reports  of  the  great  pestilence,  come 
now  tales  of  new  invasion.  The  great  sea,  vacant  since  the 
world  began,  disgorgeth  fresh  swarms  with  every  tide,  as 
some  rotten  pool  its  burden  of  vermin.  The  gaunt  leader, 
Pizarro,  is  rearing  cities,  driving  our  children  into  slavery 
to  hew  his  stone  and  build  his  walls.  The  fairest  vales  of 
Tavantinsuyu  are  being  seized  by  strangers,  their  people 
banished  from  their  homes,  or  lashed  into  servitude.  Yet 
I  am  called  the  Inca!  Oh,  Rava,  turn  away  thy  face  till 
Manco  hath  been  worthy  of  his  trust !  " 

He  sank  into  a  chair,  his  head  bowed.  Rava  touched 
him.  "  Manco,  do  I  behold  my  brother  in  despair?  " 

He  looked  up,  his  face  reddening.  "  No,  no !  Not 
that,  my  sister,  not  that!  I  have  spoken  of  the  past  and 
the  present.  The  curse  hath  fallen  whilst  I  have  been  held 
by  chains  of  circumstance  —  the  great  Inti  knoweth  how 
much  against  my  will.  Now,  it  is  ended ! "  He  rose  and 
regarded  her  with  steady  eyes,  his  voice  calm,  but  intense. 
"  It  is  ended,  Rava!  To-night  I  meet  the  Villac  Vmu  and 
my  generals.  To-morrow  at  dawn,  whilst  chasquis  are 
speeding  the  four  roads  from  Cuzco,  the  priest  will  sacri 
fice  to  the  Sun  —  not  in  his  desecrated  temple,  but  under 
his  blue  vault  secretly  in  the  mountains  —  invoking  at  last 
his  dread  ministers,  the  Thunder  and  Lightning.  But, 
Rava,"  he  exclaimed,  seizing  her  hands,  "  think  not  that  in 
the  weakness  thou  hast  seen  to-night  there  was  the  plaint 
of  a  coward !  My  heart  was  full.  My  lips  have  been  sealed 
in  all  these  months  of  shame  with  links  of  bronze.  No 
mortal  but  thee  hath  heard  a  sigh  or  a  faltered  word ;  but 
thy  dear  eyes  have  drawn  from  me  what  torture  could  not 


2g8  THE    CRIMSON    CONQUEST 

compel.  Not  even  Amancay,  sweetest  of  consorts,  hath 
heard  a  whisper  of  the  sorrow  which  hath  made  mine  every 
night  a  harrowed  year.  But  now,  it  is  done !  " 

He  fell  into  gloomy  reverie,  while  Rava,  pale  and  quite 
silent,  sat  pressing  his  hand  and  looking  far  away,  or 
anxiously  at  his  sombre  eyes.  He  was  oblivious  of  her 
presence,  until  he  roused  with  a  faint  smile. 

"  But  now,  dear  girl,  what  of  thyself?  I  have  not  even 
told  thee  my  joy  in  having  thee  again.  Forgive  me." 

Rava  placed  her  fingers  on  his  lips.  "  No  need,  Manco, 
either  for  thee  to  tell  me,  or  for  me  to  say  that  I  forgive. 
But  mine  is  a  long  story.  Be  content  to-night  to  know  that 
I  am  safe." 

"  No ;  but  let  me  hear  it,  Rava.  It  is  of  concern  to  me, 
as  thou  knowest.  How  didst  come  to  be  at  Xauxa?  " 

"  Ah,  that  is  near  the  end  of  the  story,  brother." 

"  Then  tell  me  from  the  beginning.  I  had  thought 
thee  in  Toparca's  suite  until  I  met  —  Pizarro  at  Xaquixa- 
guana.  He  told  me,  Rava,  thou  hadst  fled  from  Caxamalca 
with  a  traitor  Viracocha  who  had  broken  prison."  Manco's 
voice  was  grave. 

Rava's  eyes  flashed  as  they  met  his.  "  Pizarro  called 
him  so,  Manco?  "  she  demanded;  then  after  a  pause,  "  Ah, 
yes  —  a  traitor!  But  what  wouldst  say  of  a  traitor  to 
these  men  of  evil?  " 

Manco  studied  her  face  before  he  replied  slowly, 
"  Much  worse  even  than  they  —  or  much  better." 

"  Then  much  better !  "  she  said,  with  quiet  emphasis. 
"  His  treason  lay  in  this,  my  brother  —  that  he  fiercely 
resented  Pizarro's  perfidy  to  our  kinsman,  Atahualpa, 
whom  he  befriended  in  his  darkest  hours.  And  in  this  — 
that  he  saved  me  from  worse  than  death  when  I  was  at 
the  mercy  of  those  vultures ;  that  he  fought  for  me,  starved 
for  me,  kept  hope  alive  when  my  heart  was  broken,  and 
shielded  me  from  a  thousand  perils,  until  he  led  me  to 


THE   INCA    MANGO  299 

safety.  And  all  this,  Manco,  for  the  sake  of  a  vow  to 
Atahualpa,  whom  he  promised  to  deliver  me  from  mine 
enemies.  A  traitor!  Oh,  my  brother,  if  thy  nobles  have 
virtues  like  his  treason,  thou  'rt  a  fortunate  monarch ! " 

While  she  was  speaking,  and  afterward,  Manco 
searched  her  deep  eyes  until,  conscious  of  his  scrutiny, 
they  fell.  Her  hand  was  trembling,  and  his  face  darkened 
with  displeasure.  "  Rava,"  he  demanded,  "  where  is  this 
Viracocha?  " 

She  looked  up,  and  the  sorrow  and  desolation  which 
had  swept  quickly  over  her  gentle  face  brought  generous 
remorse  for  his  instant  of  sternness.  Her  lips  trembled 
piteously.  "  Oh,  Manco,  Manco,"  she  faltered,  "  he  fell 
for  me  at  last.  He  is  no  more !  " 

With  head  bowed  and  form  shaken  by  grief,  her  hands 
sought  his  neck;  and  whatever  he  would  have  said  a 
moment  before  in  reproof  of  her  feeling  for  one  of  the 
hated  race,  it  was  forgotten  in  pity  as  he  drew  her  into 
his  arms.  With  affectionate  sympathy  he  endeavored  to 
moderate  her  anguish,  but  words  were  vain,  and  he  could 
only  hold  her  tight-clasped  until  its  force  was  spent.  Then 
he  half  carried  her,  benumbed  and  yielding,  to  her  couch 
and  called  her  maids,  lingering  helpless  beside  her  while 
they  ministered. 

Rava  had  grown  more  tranquil,  and  he  was  about  to 
depart.  She  lay  quiet,  her  eyes  closed,  their  lashes  yet 
moist,  and  he  bent  over  to  kiss  the  pallid  cheek.  As  he 
did  so  she  sighed  deeply,  and  a  small  object  slipped  from 
her  bosom  and  lay  sparkling  at  the  end  of  its  slender  chain. 
Its  silvery  gleam  caught  his  eye.  He  started,  looked  more 
closely,  and  recoiled  as  if  he  had  seen  a  serpent  in  the  folds 
of  her  robe.  He  caught  breath  sharply,  and  an  ashy  pale 
ness  spread  over  his  bronzed  face.  By  a  blessing  of 
Heaven  the  girl  did  not  open  her  eyes  upon  the  mingled 
abhorrence,  unbelief,  and  anger,  with  which  he  beheld  the 


3oo  THE   CRIMSON    CONQUEST 

tiny  image  of  the  crucified  Saviour  —  the  emblem  of  all  on 
the  broad  earth  that  he  hated  most  savagely.  He  gazed 
for  a  fascinated  instant,  stood  erect,  glanced  at  the  sad  face 
once  more,  and  left  the  room  with  features  as  rigid  as  if 
cast  in  the  metal  whose  color  they  wore.  The  startled 
maids  looked  after  him  as  he  went,  but  none  saw  him  stag 
ger  as  he  crossed  the  court  with  his  hands  pressed  to  his 
forehead.  The  Moon,  goddess  consort  of  the  Sun,  was 
rising  over  the  dark  roofs  of  the  palace.  He  wavered  out 
from  the  shadow  into  her  rays  and  cowered  beneath  them, 
shuddering  as  if  he  felt  her  silent  denunciation  of  his  sis 
ter's  apostasy.  Gaining  his  apartments,  he  passed  his 
attendants  without  a  word,  leaving  them  awed  by  a  face 
they  had  hardly  recognized. 

When  his  generals  met  him,  near  midnight,  his  eyes 
were  fevered,  his  voice  hoarse  and  dry,  and  his  words, 
fraught  with  war,  were  uttered  with  an  abrupt  tensity  that 
fired  their  warlike  hearts.  The  council  was  long.  At  its 
close  the  chasquis  who  were  to  bear  his  messages  to  the 
distant  provinces,  calling  them  to  arms,  were  summoned 
to  have  the  words  from  his  own  lips.  They  left  it  with 
nerves  strung  by  their  portentous  import  and  the  fierce, 
suppressed  energy  with  which  they  were  given. 

Before  the  sun  rose  above  Cuzco  the  fiat  had  gone 
forth  that  would  convulse  the  empire. 

Within  the  month  every  province,  town,  and  hamlet 
within  the  realm  was  in  secret  preparation.  Armorers 
doubled  their  industry.  The  great  system  of  posts  sprang 
to  its  highest  activity,  the  tireless  chasqvis  speeding  day  and 
night  over  every  road  and  mountain  trail,  hurrying  com 
mands  from  the  capital,  bearing  back  reports  of  governors 
and  Caracas,  in  ceaseless  radiation  and  convergence.  Maga 
zines  and  armories  were  replenished  of  their  stores,  and 
trains  of  carriers  toiled  over  every  highway,  concentrating 
provisions  and  material  of  war  upon  the  strongholds  in  the 


THE   INCA    MANGO  301 

mountains  surrounding  Cuzco.  All  the  machinery  of  the 
most  elaborately  perfect  organization  the  world  has  ever 
seen  was  in  motion,  but  as  silently  as  clouds  gather  before 
a  tempest.  The  couriers  stole  in  and  out  of  the  city  under 
cover  of  darkness.  Few  of  them  went  to  the  Amarucancha, 
but  were  received  and  despatched  by  the  Villac  Vmu  at  his 
own  palace,  their  tidings  and  qtttpus  carried  by  him  to  the 
Inca.  The  impending  cataclysm  gave  no  faintest  warning, 
and  the  Spaniards  idled,  caroused,  and  brawled,  uncon 
scious  of  its  approach. 

The  Nusta  Rava,  quite  unaware,  fortunately,  of  the 
agitation  with  which  Manco  had  quitted  her,  worn  out  by 
stress  of  mind  and  the  weariness  of  her  journey,  at  length 
found  forgetfulness  in  sleep.  The  next  day  and  evening 
were  spent  with  her  sisters  and  the  Auqui  Paullo,  but 
Manco  did  not  return,  though  he  sent  a  page  with  inquiries 
for  her  health.  The  day  following,  and  the  next,  her  hope 
to  see  him  was  disappointed.  At  length  he  came. 

The  first  glance  from  his  gloomy  eyes  chilled  the 
warmth  from  her  words  as  she  started  to  meet  him,  and 
she  stopped,  her  smile  of  welcome  fading  into  startled  in 
quiry.  The  Inca  dismissed  the  maids,  and  motioned  her 
to  her  seat,  neither  avoiding  nor  heeding  her  hand  as  she 
laid  it  hesitatingly  upon  his  arm,  nor  replying  to  the 
question  in  her  face. 

The  interview  was  not  long  nor  violent,  but  when  he 
left  and  sent  in  her  maids,  they  found  her  unconscious.  The 
last  of  many  woes  had  snapped  the  frail  thread  of  courage 
that  had  sustained  her.  Manco  had  questioned  her  about 
the  crucifix,  had  requested  that  she  abjure  the  abhorred 
religion,  had  been  refused  as  firmly  as  gently.  His  respect 
for  her  had  prohibited  command  or  reproach,  but  the  cold 
ness  of  his  farewell  and  its  finality  had  been  a  stab  more 
cruel  than  the  most  passionate  denunciation. 

The  next  day  Rava  did  not  rise,  nor  the  next,  nor  for 


302  THE    CRIMSON    CONQUEST 

many  days  thereafter.  The  amautas  came  —  wise  men  — 
three  of  them.  They  noted  her  fever,  listened  a  moment  to 
her  delirium,  consulted,  and  administered  the  simple  reme 
dies  known  to  the  Peruvian  pharmacopoeia.  These  were 
few  and  mostly  harmless,  so  nature  fought  for  her  with 
few  hindrances  from  drugs,  and  with  all  the  assistance  that 
nursing  could  give.  But  it  was  a  long  and  dreary  struggle 
before  the  unseeing  eyes  at  last  looked  sadly  but  clearly 
at  her  attendants,  and  her  whispered  words  grew  intelli 
gible.  Almost  the  first  were  "  Father  Valverde,"  and  the 
maids  looked  in  wonder.  But  she  repeated  the  name  until 
the  priest  was  sent  for  and  came. 

Father  Valverde,  now  Bishop  of  Cuzco,  was  an  elderly 
man,  well  preserved  and  well  fed,  with  a  rugged,  deter 
mined  face,  a  great  slit  of  a  mouth  with  good  lines  about 
it;  keen  eyes  which  could  look  stern  beneath  their  shaggy 
brows  when  occasion  demanded,  or  amiably  and  humor 
ously  upon  opportunity,  and  with  an  ability  to  storm  at 
lawless  soldiery  in  terms  suited  to  their  understanding  and 
their  needs  with  a  vigor  that  would  have  been  creditable 
to  Chrysostom.  He  was  a  rabid  hater  of  the  devil.  Next 
to  the  devil  he  hated  an  unbeliever.  A  missionary  of  fanat 
ical  type,  he  could  burn  a  heathen  at  the  stake  for  the  good 
of  his  unassoilzied  soul  with  easy  conscience  and  some  sat 
isfaction.  But  he  could,  withal,  rejoice  sincerely  over  a 
soul  rescued  from  damnation,  and  did  rejoice  over  a  letter 
from  Father  Tendilla  regarding  the  Nusta  Rava.  The 
missive,  after  the  usual  salutation  and  some  preliminary 
words,  ran  as  follows :  — 

"  I  will  leave  her  long  story  to  a  fitter  time,  and  say 
merely  that  I  found  her  already  a  Christian,  having  been 
brought  to  the  Faith  by  the  Caballero  Cristoval  de  Peralta, 
whom  thou  knowest  well.  And  not  only  a  Christian  in 
belief,  but  what  is  more  admirable,  in  fibre,  inclination, 
and  bent  of  mind;  being,  in  truth,  a  most  gentle,  saintly 


THE   INCA   MANCO  303 

girl.  I  had  the  ineffable  satisfaction  of  baptizing  and  re 
ceiving  her  into  Holy  Communion.  Thereafter,  she 
worked  with  me  earnestly  in  the  conversion  of  her  people 
here,  and  departed  with  the  hope  of  pursuing  the  same  good 
work  in  Cuzco.  I  pray,  therefore,  that  thou  attend  upon 
her.  She  hath  many  sorrows.  One  is  the  death  of  this 
Cristoval. 

"  Now,  I  have  thought  of  this  concerning  the  Nusta 
Rava,  and  having  broached  it  gently,  found  it  received 
not  with  disfavor  and  even  gratefully,  to  wit:  that  as 
thou  dost  plan  to  found,  as  soon  as  may  be,  a  convent  at 
Cuzco,  she  might  be  led  to  embrace  a  holy  life.  Her  prep 
aration,  begun  here,  could  be  completed  at  Panama,  or 
even  at  Seville,  where  she  would  doubtless  enjoy  the  in 
terest  and  favor  to  which  her  rank  entitleth  her." 

There  followed  items  of  personal  concern,  and  the 
letter  closed.  The  interest  aroused  in  the  mind  of  Father 
Valverde  was  immediate  and  effective,  and  once  admitted 
to  the  palace,  he  devoted  himself  to  the  work  so  well  begun 
by  Cristoval  and  Tendilla.  Like  his  brother  missionaries, 
he  possessed  a  knowledge  of  medicine,  and  was  able  to 
hasten  Rava's  convalescence.  It  need  not  be  said  that  he 
found  her  all  that  Tendilla  had  described,  and  the  desolate 
girl  received  his  fatherly  ministrations  with  a  grateful 
heart. 


CHAPTER  XXVII 

The  Incarial  Diadem  on  a  Spanish 
Saddle-bow 

TAVANTINSUYU    was    rousing;    was    at    last 
aroused.      Dark   masses   of  warriors,    marching 
with  grim  purpose,  without  song,  or  drum,  or 
horn,  filled  the  defiles  and  roads  leading  toward 
the  City  of  the  Sun.    Day  after  day,  week  after  week,  from 
the  most  distant  quarters  of  the  empire,  the  converging 
columns  moved  upon  the  capital,  swelling  as  each  village 
or  province  added  its  contingent.    So  rapid  and  secret  was 
the  concentration  that  before  a  whisper  of  their  danger  had 
reached  the  ears  of  the  conquistadors,  the  fortified  valley 
of  Ollantaytambo,  a  few  leagues  from  Cuzco,  had  become 
a  vast  encampment,  and  waited  only  the  signal  from  the 
Inca  to  pour  forth  its  avenging  legions. 

Proud,  gloomy,  and  taciturn ;  enduring  the  contemptu 
ous  indifference,  the  unconcealed  scorn,  and  the  open  in 
sult  of  the  Spanish  officers  with  the  patient  fortitude  of  a 
heart  of  iron,  Manco  bided  the  hour.  During  the  long 
weeks  of  preparation,  while  his  forces  were  gathering,  he 
never  left  the  palace.  From  dawn  to  darkness,  and  often 
from  darkness  to  dawn  again,  he  sat  in  his  chamber,  poring 
over  qaipos,  or  feverishly  pacing  his  floor  while  he  listened 
to  the  reports  of  officers  or  issued  his  commands.  Daily 
intelligence  borne  by  the  chasqais  kept  him  in  touch  with 
the  advancing  columns,  and  on  a  map  roughly  sketched 
with  charcoal  on  a  sheet  of  cotton  lying  on  his  table  he 


THE   INCARIAL    DIADEM  305 

marked  their  approach.  His  generals  came  and  went  un 
heeded  by  the  quarrelling  Spaniards,  and  the  ominous  coun 
cils  held  nightly  within  the  palace  were  unsuspected. 

The  day  was  near  at  hand.  Manco  was  in  midnight 
council  with  his  officers  and  the  Auqui  Paullo.  The  final 
disposition  of  his  troops  was  being  considered,  but  the 
blow  was  withheld  until  word  should  come  from  the  coast 
that  the  forces  near  the  newly  founded  Spanish  cities, 
Ciudad  de  los  Reyes  and  Truxillo,  were  ready  to  strike 
simultaneously.  At  Xauxa  preparations  for  investment 
were  complete.  All  passes  and  lines  of  communication 
between  the  several  Spanish  posts  were  occupied.  Already 
the  women  of  the  royal  household  were  being  sent,  in  twos 
and  threes,  and  with  all  possible  secrecy,  to  the  protection 
of  the  fortress  at  Ollantaytambo.  Rava  had  not  gone,  but 
would  depart  with  Paullo  on  the  following  night. 

The  group  of  nobles  about  the  young  Inca  as  he  stood 
at  the  head  of  his  table,  was  one  which  would  have  been 
distinguished  in  any  council  of  warriors  or  statesmen. 
All  were  veterans  of  many  wars;  and  all,  with  the  excep 
tion  of  Yumaquilque,  commander  of  the  Amahuacas,  a 
warlike  mountain  tribe  to  the  northeast  of  Cuzco,  were  of 
the  pure  Inca  blood.  Two,  the  generals  Mayta  and 
Quehuar,  were  members  of  the  royal  family;  the  former 
a  cousin,  the  latter  an  uncle,  of  Manco.  Quehuar,  the 
eldest  and  next  of  kin,  stood  beside  the  Auqui  Paullo.  At 
his  side  was  Mayta,  younger  by  years,  and  one  of  the 
handsomest  of  the  nobility  of  Tavantinsuyu.  He  had  the 
features  and  form  of  a  Roman,  every  line  indicative  of  the 
energy  and  alertness  which  had  gained  him  the  sobriquet 
of  "  The  Puma  "  among  his  devoted  soldiery.  He  com 
manded  the  Incarial  Guard  and  was  the  head  of  the  military 
school.  Next  was  Mocho,  chief  of  the  fierce  Antis.  He 
was  a  short,  dark,  irritable  genius  of  aggressiveness,  known 
as  the  fiercest  fighter  in  all  Tavantinsuyu,  and  the  most 

20 


306  THE    CRIMSON    CONQUEST 

persistent.  There  were  others  of  less  distinction,  but  all 
were  of  tried  courage  and  ability.  Now  they  listened  with 
close  attention  to  the  words  of  their  young  lord,  whose 
force  and  spirit  as  developed  in  the  last  few  months  had 
inspired  an  admiration  in  which  his  youth  was  forgotten, 
and  had  filled  them  with  high  hope  for  their  stricken 
country. 

"  My  lords,"  said  Manco,  after  the  business  of  the 
council  was  finished,  "  I  perceive  that  the  current  of  things 
is  bearing  us  to  early  victory.  The  Canares  left  in  the 
city  number  less  than  a  thousand.  We  scarcely  need  count 
them.  The  Viracochas  die  hard,  as  we  learned  at  Vilca- 
conga,"  he  smiled  grimly,  "  but  they  are  not  more 
than  two  hundred.  Almagro  is  marching  rapidly  to  the 
south,  and  he  is  now  where  no  cry  for  help  from  Cuzco 
can  reach.  Should  he  seek  to  return  he  would  find  the 
passes  closed.  Ullulama  is  within  five  days'  march,  but 
we  need  not  wait.  The  Villac  Vmu  will  be  with  us  to 
morrow,  and  by  the  day  following  the  household  will  be 
in  safety  at  Ollantaytambo.  Then,  my  lords,  we  strike. 
To  thee,  my  Lord  Mocho,  it  will  please  me  to  give  the 
honor  of  taking  the  Sachsahuaman." 

Mocho  bowed.  "  I  would  better  like  an  honor  more 
dearly  gained,  Sapa  Inca.  The  place  is  but  feebly 
garrisoned." 

The  Inca  smiled.  "  Thou  'It  have  opportunity,  pres 
ently,  for  others  less  easily  won,  my  lord;  do  not  fear  it. 
The  fortress  may  not  be  so  easily  held  as  taken,  for  if  I 
mistake  not  the  Viracochas  will  not  be  slow  to  learn  its 
importance.  Thou  wilt  garrison  it  strongly,  therefore,  and 
see  it  amply  supplied."  He  turned  to  the  senior  general. 
"  My  Lord  Quehuar,  thou  wilt  send  a  chasqui  to  Xauxa 
to-night " 

He  was  interrupted  by  commotion  and  an  excited 
voice  in  the  antechamber.  A  frown  crossed  his  face,  and 


THE    INCARIAL   DIADEM  307 

he  motioned  to  Paullo.  The  prince  hurried  out,  returned 
in  a  moment  with  precipitation,  and  as  he  threw  open  the 
door  the  Inca  started.  Paullo's  face  was  drawn  with  hor 
ror.  At  his  elbow  was  a  soldier  in  the  uniform  of  the 
guard,  who,  as  Paullo  strove  to  speak,  sank  upon  his  knees 
and  bent  to  the  floor. 

"  Manco  !  Manco !  "  cried  the  young  prince,  in  agony. 
"  In  the  name  of  Inti !  —  The  Virgins  of  the  Sun !  " 

The  Inca  strode  toward  him,  demanding  sharply  as  he 
seized  his  arm,  "What  meanest  thou,  boy?  Speak!" 

"  The  Acllahuasi !  The  Viracochas  are  battering  its 
doors!" 

Manco  rushed  across  the  anteroom  to  the  court  with 
out  a  word.  Paullo  jerked  the  soldier  to  his  feet,  and 
followed  by  the  generals,  hurried  after.  As  the  Inca 
stepped  into  the  open  air  a  dull  roar  of  voices  in  the  street 
outside,  the  sound  of  blows,  and  fierce  shouts  shocked  his 
hearing;  then  a  rending  crash  of  a  falling  door,  and  the 
clamor  of  a  rush.  For  an  instant  he  was  motionless, 
strained  and  listening.  He  turned  suddenly,  and  the  light 
from  the  open  door  fell  upon  his  face,  distorted  by  fury. 

"Mayta!"  he  shouted.  "Mayta! — where  is  he?  — 
Mayta,  thy  battalions !  Fly !  —  Paullo,  my  arms !  " 

As  Mayta  started  the  soldier  grasped  his  arm.  "  Hold, 
my  lord !  "  he  said ;  then,  rapidly  to  Manco :  "  Sapa  Inca, 
the  barracks  are  surrounded,  and  but  twenty  are  within  the 
quarters  —  the  rest  have  gone  to  Ollantaytambo.  I  sought 
to  enter,  but  was  driven  away." 

Manco  stamped  with  impatience  and  rage.  "  Follow 
me ! "  he  cried  to  his  generals,  seizing  his  arms  from 
Paullo.  "  We  will  take  the  guard." 

Quehuar  blocked  his  way  determinedly.  "  Rashness, 
my  Lord  Inca!  We  are  unarmed,  and  the  guard  may  be 
needed  at  its  post  before  the  night  is  gone." 

Manco    thrust    him    aside,    maddened    by    women's 


3o8  THE    CRIMSON    CONQUEST 

\ 

shrieks  from  the  convent,  but  the  generals  crowded  about 
him,  Quehuar  laid  a  strong  hand  upon  his  shoulder. 

"  Prudence,  prudence,  my  lord !  "  he  urged.  "  A  mo 
ment's  folly  now  would  undo  all  that  hath  been  done." 

Manco  shook  off  his  grasp.  "Prudence!  Dost  hear 
those  cries,  old  man?  Release  me!  " 

"  God  of  heaven !  do  I  not  hear  them?  But  —  hold ! 
—  wouldst  have  vengeance  in  full?  Then  abort  it  not  by 
an  act  of  madness!  Dost  forget  thine  army?"  Manco 
checked  himself  with  an  effort,  and  Quehuar  went  on 
energetically :  "  The  instrument  for  punishment  is  ready 
for  thy  hand.  Beware  thrusting  that  hand  without  it  into 
the  teeth  of  wild  beasts!  What  couldst  thou  —  what  could 
our  united  strength  do  to-night?  Thy  death,  or  even  a 
wound,  would  seal  the  fate  of  Tavantinsuyu.  Bethink 
thee,  Inca!" 

Manco  drew  his  cloak  over  his  face  with  a  groan.  He 
dropped  it  and  exclaimed  hoarsely :  "  My  lords,  I  go  to 
the  army  to-night!  The  hour  hath  come  for  action. 
Mayta,  thou  wilt  go  with  me.  Do  you,  my  friends,  remain 
until  the  women  are  in  safety.  You  will  join  me  at  Ollan- 
taytambo." 

"  Sapa  Inca "  began  Quehuar ;  but  Manco  raised 

his  hand  and  continued  vehemently :  — 

"I  go  to-night!  What  wouldst  have?  That  I  sit 
clutching  mine  ears,  or  shuffling  my  feet  to  drown  the 
wails  of  these  unfortunates?  Hear  them!  Hear  them! 
Oh,  by  the  gods,  they  drive  away  my  reason!  Come, 
Mayta :  we  go !  " 

He  grasped  the  officer's  arm,  waved  back  the  others, 
and  hurried  across  the  court.  At  the  entrance  of  the  next 
stood  a  sentinel,  and  the  Inca  halted,  checking  his  salute. 
"  Here,  Mayta,  thou  'rt  unarmed.  Take  this."  With  his 
own  hand  he  drew  the  soldier's  sword  and  passed  it  to  his 
companion.  They  hastened  across  another  court  filled 


THE   INCARIAL    DIADEM  309 

with  shuddering  attendants,  and  through  a  third  and 
smaller  one  to  a  narrow  corridor  along  which  they  groped 
until  halted  by  a  door  at  its  end.  Manco  hastily  unbarred. 
It  was  a  postern  opening  upon  a  terrace  between  the  wall 
of  the  palace  and  the  rivulet  Huatenay.  Opposite  was  a 
Right  of  steps  leading  to  the  bed  of  the  stream,  and  they 
descended. 

Meanwhile,  within  the  walls  of  the  Convent  of  the 
Virgins  and  in  the  street  without,  a  hell-carnival  was  in 
progress  too  hideous  to  dwell  upon.  At  the  moment  the 
Inca  was  passing  through  the  outskirts  of  the  city  Juan 
Pizarro,  mounted  bareback,  unarmored,  and  bareheaded, 
was  charging  into  the  tumult,  followed  by  his  brother 
Gonzalo  and  a  few  other  cavaliers,  sword  in  hand.  Bellow 
ing  oaths,  laying  about  with  the  flat  of  their  blades,  not 
infrequently  with  the  edge,  and  leaping  their  horses  upon 
the  obstinate,  they  cut  their  way  to  the  convent  and  rode 
in  to  rescue  the  unhappy  inmates.  Behind  followed  a  dozen 
of  the  guard,  only  to  throw  aside  their  pikes  and  join  in 
the  fiendish  revel,  leaving  their  duty  to  the  black-robed 
priests  and  friars  who  struggled  through  in  their  wake. 
One  bore  a  crucifix;  but  the  stout  Valverde  did  better 
work  with  a  bludgeon,  breaking  many  a  wicked  face  and 
ruffianly  head  in  his  career  through  the  desecrated  halls 
and  gardens. 

The  night  was  far  spent  before  the  place  was  cleared, 
and  its  doors  closed  and  guarded.  Juan  Pizarro  was  riding 
slowly  back  toward  the  square  when  a  Canare,  who  had 
lurked  about  the  Spaniard  for  an  hour  in  a  vain  effort  to 
approach  and  be  heard  without  a  cleft  skull  for  his  pains, 
touched  his  leg  and  sprang  back  with  hands  upraised. 
Juan  halted. 

"Well?"  he  demanded  brusquely,  scowling  at  the 
Indio.  "  Hast  business  with  me?  If  so,  be  brisk."  The 
Canare  jabbered  a  stream  of  broken  words  in  Quichua, 


3io  THE    CRIMSON    CONQUEST 

not  intelligible,  but  something,  it  seemed  to  be,  about  the 
Inca,  —  enough  to  arrest  the  attention  of  Juan  Pizarro,  and 
he  demanded  impatiently  of  his  brother :  — 

"What  saith  the  dog,  Gonzalo?  Canst  make  it  out? 
Here,  thou,  say  it  over  and  slowly." 

The  Canare  repeated  his  words  with  better  effect,  — 
with  immediate  and  startling  effect,  for  Juan  turned  with 
a  shout  to  his  companions:  "  Dost  hear,  Gonzalo?  Do  ye 
hear,  Caballeros?  The  Inca  hath  fled  the  city!"  He 
kicked  the  ribs  of  his  horse  and  galloped  madly  to  the 
palace  of  Viracocha,  across  the  great  court  and  into  the 
hall  that  served  as  a  guard-room,  filling  it  with  the  clamor 
of  hoofs,  and  throwing  its  occupants  into  confusion.  They 
seized  their  arms  in  a  panic. 

"  Ho !  The  trumpeter !  "  he  roared.  "  Out,  and  sound 
to  horse!  Out,  and  sound  to  horse!  Presteza!  Saltal  To 
horse !  To  horse ! "  He  went  out  like  a  whirlwind. 
Before  he  had  reached  his  quarters  the  shrill,  quick  notes 
were  rising  from  the  square.  Again,  and  again,  and  again 
the  stirring  measure,  and  the  stable  was  alive  with  men, 
tossing  saddles,  tugging  at  straps,  swearing,  and  panting  in 
a  frenzy.  One  after  another,  and  by  twos  and  threes,  the 
mailed  riders  swung  into  saddle,  seized  lances  from  the 
rack,  and  clattered  out  into  the  plaza.  The  line  formed 
rapidly,  and  the  plunging,  kicking,  and  head-tossing  of 
the  excited  steeds  had  hardly  subsided  before  it  was  in 
column  and,  led  by  Juan  Pizarro,  took  up  a  trot  behind 
the  Canare. 

The  gloomy  walls  of  the  violated  convent  were 
growing  gray  in  the  dawn  as  the  cavalcade  roared 
past  down  the  narrow,  echoing  streets  and  through  the 
suburbs. 

It  was  late  afternoon  when  the  troop  reentered  Cuzco. 
It  moved  at  a  walk,  and  hanging  on  the  pommel  of  the 
commander's  saddle  was  the  llauiu  of  the  Inca  Manco.  In 


THE   INCARIAL    DIADEM  311 

the  foremost  rank  of  the  column  was  a  trooper  without  his 
helmet,  with  a  bloody  bandage  across  his  face  below  the 
eyes.  A  weapon  had  passed  the  bars  of  his  visor.  Farther 
back  was  another,  shorn  of  a  pauldron  and  his  right  arm 
useless.  In  the  rear,  two  Canares  carried  a  third  on  an 
improvised  litter,  dead.  But  in  the  middle  of  the  column, 
between  double  files  of  troopers,  marched  the  Inca  and  the 
Lord  Mayta,  blood-stained,  bandaged,  their  arms  bound 
behind  their  backs.  Horses,  riders,  and  the  two  prisoners, 
were  splashed  with  mud, 

Manco  walked  with  head  erect,  without  a  glance  at 
the  Canares  who  hurried  into  the  street  as  the  cavalcade 
traversed  the  suburb  Munaycenca.  Nor  did  he  more  than 
glance  at  his  grief-stricken  subjects  who  cast  themselves 
moaning  upon  the  pavement.  Not  a  line  of  his  stern 
young  face  betrayed  his  emotion  at  entering  the  capital  a 
prisoner,  nor  his  torture  of  mind  at  the  disaster  thus  be 
fallen  his  people  on  the  very  eve  of  the  stroke  for  their 
deliverance. 

From  Munaycenca  the  news  flew  ahead.  Canares 
gathered,  too  stolid  for  manifestation,  and  knots  of  Span 
iards,  whom  a  sign  from  Juan  Pizarro  warned  into  silence. 
But  throughout  the  remainder  of  the  march  every  door  was 
closed,  and  no  native  of  Cuzco  looked  out  upon  the  fallen 
majesty  of  their  Inca. 

Crossing  the  bridge  toward  the  Coricancha  the  col 
umn  turned  northward  through  the  city,  passing  the  pal 
aces  of  the  Yupanquis,  of  the  Inca  Rocca,  the  schools 
where  Manco  had  won  his  youthful  honors,  and  entered  the 
road  which  mounted  to  the  Sachsahuaman.  The  single 
company  of  pikemen  constituting  its  garrison  stood  in 
front  of  the  citadel,  and  to  its  commander  Pizarro  sur 
rendered  the  prisoners.  An  hour  later  they  were  heavily 
ironed  within  the  keep,  and  the  troop  was  on  its  way  back 
to  Cuzco. 


3i2  THE    CRIMSON    CONQUEST 

In  the  Amarucancha  the  hours  had  dragged  in  a  long 
nightmare.  After  Manco's  departure  his  lords  remained, 
racked  by  the  shocking  sounds  to  which  they  listened  in 
helplessness.  The  war-hardened  old  Quehuar  paced  the 
court.  Yumaquilque  stood  motionless  against  the  wall, 
his  mantle  over  his  face.  The  others  hearkened  in  silence 
broken  only  by  an  occasional  fierce,  whispered  sentence 
from  Mocho.  But  from  those  dreadful  hours  they  im 
bibed  a  relentless  ferocity  of  hate  for  the  invaders  which  no 
amount  of  Spanish  blood  could  ever  mitigate,  and  which 
in  the  days  to  follow  would  send  many  a  conquistador 
unshriven  to  his  Maker. 

Upon  the  Auqui  Paullo,  young  and  uninured,  the 
night's  tragedy  fell  most  cruelly;  but  the  anguish  of  his 
sisters  gathered  in  Rava's  chamber,  crouched  in  speech 
less  horror,  and  surrounded  by  wailing  maids,  nerved  him 
by  its  reminder  of  their  dependence  now  upon  him.  By 
the  time  he  had  restored  them  to  partial  calmness  the 
tumult  beyond  the  walls  had  subsided. 

As  he  stepped  into  the  court  again,  he  heard  the  call 
to  horse;  and  a  few  minutes  later,  the  uproar  of  the  pass 
ing  troop.  The  circumstance  was  alarming.  It  stirred  a 
sudden  fear  that  Manco's  flight  had  been  detected.  Paullo 
sent  a  page  to  learn  its  significance.  The  youth  did  not 
return.  He  despatched  a  second,  and  sought  Quehuar.  He 
found  the  old  general  with  the  others  in  the  council  room, 
and  had  hardly  entered  before  the  second  messenger  re 
turned  to  announce  that  a  guard  of  pikemen  was  at  the 
outer  door,  and  he  had  not  been  permitted  to  pass.  The 
palace  was  surrounded  by  guards,  and  all  within  were 
prisoners. 

That  night  the  humble  native  knelt  at  his  evening 
prayer,  shuddering  at  the  infinite  indifference  of  his  god 
to  the  sorrows  of  Tavantinsuyu.  As  twilight  came,  a  few 
muffled  figures  stole  to  the  edge  of  the  square,  gazed  in 


THE   INCARIAL   DIADEM  313 

silence  at  the  guarded  doors  and  sombre  walls  of  the  Ama- 
rucancha,  and  slunk  away.  The  capture  of  the  Inca  was 
told  in  whispers,  stirring  no  cry  for  vengeance,  no  move 
to  rescue.  The  calamity  was  as  irremediable  and  appall 
ing  as  if  heaven  itself  had  fallen.  It  was  the  wrath  of 
Inti,  not  to  be  opposed. 

A  few  days  later,  the  nobles  were  permitted  to  depart : 
were,  in  the  case  of  Quehuar  and  Yumaquilque,  even  com 
pelled  to  go;  for  these  two  would  have  shared  the  cap 
tivity  of  Paullo  and  the  household,  whom  the  Pizarros 
retained  as  hostages  for  the  quiet  of  the  empire,  whose 
patience  under  this  latest  blow  they  doubted. 


CHAPTER  XXVIII 
Two  Comrades  Reunited 

NEVER  a  knight  rode  forth  with  more  of  chivalry 
than  dwelt  beneath  sturdy  Pedro's  breastplate 
when  he  set  out  in  quest  of  Cristoval.  He  went 
with  little  hope  of  doing  more  than  saying  a  few 
prayers  at  the  grave  of  the  cavalier  and  marking  it  with  a 
cross;  but  for  these  offices  he  would  have  traversed  a 
continent. 

Cristoval  lay  beneath  an  awning  at  the  villa  of  the 
Curaca  Huallampo,  well  bolstered  and  pillowed,  and  band 
aged  to  a  condition  of  almost  total  rigidity.  He  was  look 
ing  moodily  over  the  sparkling  lake  when  his  reverie  was 
disturbed  by  the  approach  of  his  host,  accompanied,  unmis 
takably  accompanied,  by  the  familiar  sound  of  a  peg.  The 
cavalier  was  startled  half  erect,  but  sank  back  weakly  as 
Pedro  appeared  with  Huallampo.  The  cook  was  breath 
less  from  a  climb  of  the  hill  at  his  utmost  speed.  At  sight 
of  his  friend  he  increased  his  pace  across  the  terrace, 
grasped  the  extended  hand,  but  instead  of  speaking,  com 
pressed  his  lips  as  a  spasm  crossed  his  face.  Roaring 
his  words  to  conceal  his  unsteadiness  of  voice,  he  ex 
claimed  :  — 

"  Hob,  Cristoval!  Do  I  see  thee  in  the  flesh?  Blessed 
Virgin,  it  is  so!  Why,  man,  I  came  to  weep  over  thy 
grave!  But  't  is  thou,  in  very  truth !  " 

"God  bless  thee,  Pedro,"  said  Cristoval,  with  mois 
tened  eyes,  pressing  the  cook's  hand. 


TWO    COMRADES   REUNITED  315 

"  So  He  hath  done,  old  friend,  in  letting  me  see  thee 
again.  But,  Santa  Maria  I  thou  'rt  wrapped,  and  swathed, 
and  beragged,  and  swaddled,  like  a  sore  finger!  Canst 
wiggle  thy  toes?  Ah!  'T  is  a  comfort.  Any  broken 
bones?  No?  Buenol  Just  full  of  holes  —  pricked,  punc 
tured,  pinked,  and  perforated !  Hum !  It  might  be  worse. 
The  curaca  saith  thou  'rt  mending  fast." 

Cristoval  nodded.  "  Pedro,"  he  began  anxiously,  then 
stopped. 

"  Well,  say  on,  amigo"  said  the  cook,  seating  himself. 

"  Dost  know  —  aught  of  Rava?" 

"That  I  do!  She  is  safe  in  the  care  of  Father 
Tendilla." 

Cristoval  closed  his  eyes  and  turned  away,  his  lips 
moving.  Pedro  eyed  him  curiously,  and  shook  his  head. 
Both  were  silent.  "  Tell  me  about  it,  Pedro,"  at  last. 

"  Nay,"  said  Pedro.  "  It  is  too  long  a  story  for  the 
present.  The  curaca  warneth  me  against  much  talking. 
Thou  must  be  content  to  know  that  she  is  unharmed. 
Shortly  I  '11  tell  thee,  and  much  history  besides.  But  the 
Nusta  Rava  is  in  good  hands."  Permitting  no  further 
conversation,  he  sat  long,  surveying  the  cavalier  with  great 
satisfaction  while  Huallampo  gave  him  an  inventory  of  the 
various  hurts. 

Cristoval's  recovery  had  been  much  impeded  by  his 
condition  of  mind.  Fever  ensued  after  he  had  been  carried 
from  Maytalca's  ruined  villa,  and  for  days  he  lay  between 
life  and  death.  His  depression  told  seriously  against  him, 
and  later,  as  he  gained  strength,  his  progress  was  further 
hindered  by  restless  longing  to  be  in  search  of  Rava. 
Huallampo's  admonitions  availed  little  against  his  fuming, 
but  he  was  somewhat  reassured  by  knowing  that  a  party 
had  already  gone  to  gain  intelligence  of  the  Nusta. 
Pedro's  coming  with  the  knowledge  that  Rava  was  safe 
made  his  convalescence  rapid.  Still,  it  was  weeks  before 


316  THE    CRIMSON    CONQUEST 

he  could  rise,  weeks  more  before  he  could  stir  abroad,  and 
the  summer  was  gone  before  Pedro  would  discuss  their 
future  plans.  The  party  brought  back  word  that  Rava 
had  left  Xauxa  for  Cuzco.  Cristoval  was  with  Pedro  when 
he  received  the  information. 

"  Then  she  is  with  the  Inca,  and  her  troubles  are  past," 
he  sighed.  "  Pedro,  how  long,  thinkst  thou,  before  I  can 
mount?  " 

The  cook  looked  at  him  sharply  before  replying. 
"  That  would  depend,"  he  said,  presently,  "  upon  thy  pur 
pose.  Thou  couldst  amble  about  the  valley  to-morrow; 
but  thou  'It  not  be  fit  to  couch  a  lance  for  weeks  to  come, 
old  friend,  so  make  no  plans  for  campaigning.  What  dost 
think  of  doing?  " 

"  I  must  seek  the  Nusta  Rava,"  said  Cristoval. 

Pedro  was  not  surprised,  but  said :  "  There  will  be 
danger  for  thee  too  near  Cuzco,  Cristoval,  and  not  a  man 
in  the  pack  whom  thou  mayst  trust.  De  Soto  hath  gone 
to  the  coast  with  the  general,  sick  of  the  conquest  and  on 
his  way  to  Spain.  But  when  thou  hast  seen  the  Nusta  — 
what  then?" 

Cristoval  looked  at  him  earnestly.  "  After  that  — 
't  is  a  question.  Help  me  with  thy  good  head,  Pedro.  If 
she  would  flee  with  me  to  Xauxa  we  would  go  to  Father 
Tendilla  —  "  Cristoval  paused. 

"  She  would  flee  with  thee  to  Xauxa,  my  head  upon 
it ! "  replied  Pedro,  with  assurance.  "  Or  to  the  moon,  or 
to  the  farthest  star  —  couldst  thou  furnish  transportation. 
But  after  Xauxa  and  Father  Tendilla  —  what  next?  " 

"  Either  refuge  in  some  remote  province  of  Tavan- 
tinsuyu,  or  Panama.  We  could  harbor  in  some  village 
near  San  Miguel  until  a  ship  came  in ;  then  get  aboard  in 
secret.  Only  one  thought  goeth  against  my  conscience, 
and  that  is  of  the  peril  and  hardship  to  which  Rava  would 
be  again  exposed.  Ah,  Madrel  I  know  not,  Pedro  —  I 


317 

hesitate.  This  flight  would  be  not  only  from  Pizarro's  men, 
but  perhaps  from  the  Inca  as  well.  I  doubt  not  that  she 
could  find  faithful  supporters  in  the  venture  —  but  it 
would  be  a  struggle;  to  say  naught  of  taking  her  from 
home,  friends,  and  country,  into  another  world.  It  is  much 
to  ask.  But,  what  thinkst  thou,  old  friend?  " 

"  I  think,"  replied  Pedro,  gravely,  "  that  she  could 
easier  bear  such  suffering  than  her  present  sorrow.  But 
you  may  not  need  to  leave  the  country.  The  Inca  may 
prove  friendly." 

"  I  fear  his  friendship  would  help  little  with  Pizarro 
dominating." 

"  True!  "  said  Pedro,  shaking  his  head.  "  Thou  must 
go  to  Panama  —  and  thence  to  Spain,  for  thou  'It  be  safe 
no  nearer.  Now,  weigh  this  for  a  plan:  Thou 'It  go  to 
Cuzco.  Doubtless  Huallampo  will  furnish  thee  an  escort. 
I  will  go  with  thee  as  far  as  Xauxa,  wait  for  thy  return 
with  the  Nusta,  then  we  will  go  to  the  coast  together.  I 
will  watch  at  San  Miguel  for  a  ship,  and  will  arrange  thy 
passage  with  —  the  Senora  de  Peralta.  I  have  some 
moderate  savings,  Cristoval,  —  enough  to  purchase  the 
aid  of  a  shipmaster.  I  can  pay  him  double  what  he  would 
get  for  thy  head,  and  have  some  left  to  silence  others. 
What  sayst  thou  to  't,  amigo  ?  " 

Cristoval  seized  his  hand,  overcome  with  gratitude. 
"  Pedro,  thou  'rt  —  " 

"  A  cook ! "  interrupted  Pedro,  returning  his  grasp 
with  sudden  animation.  "A  cook  shorn  of  a  leg  by  the 
iniquity  of  Fate.  A  cook  with  but  half  his  share  of  foot 
prints.  A  pruned  cook.  A  remnant.  Naught  more,  Cris 
toval.  But  what  thinkst  thou  of  it?  " 

"By  Saint   Michael!     Pedro,  thou 'it  — " 

"A  cook!"  said  Pedro  again.  "Let  it  go.  Come! 
Discuss,  comment,  bandy  a  word  or  two  about  the  plan. 
Thou  'rt  staring  like  a  choked  calf." 


3i8  THE    CRIMSON    CONQUEST 

Cristoval's  face  clouded.  "  It  will  not  do,  my  good 
comrade,"  he  said.  "  Thou  must  have  no  part  in  it,  save 
with  thy  counsel.  Thou  hast  already  ventured  too  much 
for  friendship's  sake.  The  affair  at  Caxamalca  might  have 
cost  thee  dearly."  Pedro  had  not  told  him  of  the  thumb 
screws.  "  And  furthermore,  I  cannot  use  thy  gold.  I 
am  penniless,  and  could  never  repay  thee.  Advise,  and 
no  more." 

"  Why,  stew  me  to  rags,  Cristoval !  "  retorted  Pedro, 
with  irritation,  "  thou  dost  talk  as  if  we  were  not  friends." 

"  Nay !  That  is  as  far  from  my  thoughts  as  from 
thine.  But  friendship  —  " 

"  Is  friendship !  "  blurted  the  cook,  and  would  hear  no 
further  objection.  They  considered  it  long  and  in  detail; 
foresaw  difficulties,  and  overcame  them;  wrought  their 
plans  into  as  great  perfection  as  plans  are  often  wrought 
—  and  in  the  event,  as  shall  be  seen,  carried  them  as  near 
to  execution  as  human  plans  are  often  carried. 

The  project  gave  a  fresh  impulse  to  Cristoval's  recov 
ery.  They  disclosed  their  purpose  to  nobody,  though  to 
Huallampo  and  Maytalca  the  cavalier  confided  his  wish 
to  see  the  Nusta  Rava  before  leaving  the  country,  and  the 
curaca  proffered  his  aid.  Markumi  should  go,  and  as  many 
other  men  as  needed,  with  supplies  for  the  journey  to 
Cuzco. 

At  last  Pedro  admitted  grudgingly  that  his  companion 
was  fit  to  take  the  road ;  and  against  the  curaca' s  earnest 
advice  they  pushed  their  preparations. 

When  the  time  for  departure  was  at  hand  Cristoval 
found  many  an  unlooked-for  pang.  He  was  known  to 
every  man,  woman,  and  child  of  the  valley;  was  looked 
upon  by  them  with  reverence,  endeared  to  them  as  the 
protector  of  their  Nusta,  by  his  unfailing  courtesy,  sim 
plicity,  and  helpful  interest ;  and  finally,  by  their  sympathy 
when  he  was  lying  cut  to  pieces  by  the  Canares.  All  had 


TWO    COMRADES   REUNITED  319 

received  a  kind  word  from  the  Viracocha  Cristoval,  and 
not  one  of  them  but  must  bid  him  farewell  with  a  heart 
felt  wish  that  the  Sun  would  brighten  his  way.  When  he 
took  leave  of  Maytalca  the  lady  wept  frankly,  murmuring 
a  prayer  for  his  welfare  and  a  message  of  love  to  Rava 
when  he  should  see  her  again.  The  curaca's  daughters, 
who  had  sat  many  an  hour  at  his  bedside,  were  not  less 
affected. 

Clad  in  armor  which  Markumi's  zeal  had  brought  to 
the  splendor  of  silver,  Cristoval  at  last  rode  with  Pedro 
through  the  crowded  streets  at  the  head  of  their  few  re 
tainers.  They  were  attended  to  the  edge  of  the  village 
by  the  people,  and  for  a  mile  beyond  by  the  old  curaca, 
who  bade  them  farewell  with  warm  assurance  that  while 
a  roof  remained  in  Xilcala  they  should  find  there  a  wel 
come  and  refuge. 

At  the  head  of  the  canyon  through  which  flowed  Xil 
cala  stream  Cristoval  halted  for  a  final  look  at  the  valley, 
here  to  find  the  sharpest  pang  of  all.  He  turned  with  a 
sigh  from  its  tranquillity,  its  beauty,  and  the  thousand 
recollections,  and  rode  into  the  defile  with  a  presentiment 
that  in  leaving  its  peace  to  enter  the  gloomy  gorge  was 
a  foreshadowing  of  what  lay  before  him. 


CHAPTER  XXIX 
A  March  and  Another  Reunion 

THE  march  down  the  canyon  of  the  Xilcala  was 
rapid,  and  on  the  second  day  they  were  near  its 
debouchment  into  the  valley  of  the  Maranon, 
close  to  the  great  national  highway  leading  to 
Cuzco.  After  this  they  proceeded  with  the  utmost  circum 
spection.  By  the  end  of  the  fifth  day  they  had  passed  Lake 
Chinchaycocha  and  halted  at  Carhuacaya,  in  the  valley  of 
the  Xauxa.  It  was  a  hamlet  of  two  dozen  houses,  regu 
larly  laid  out  and  with  the  usual  campata,  or  square,  on 
which  stood  the  residence  of  the  cttraca,  where  the  two 
Viracochas  were  received  for  the  night.  Like  many 
another  village  they  passed,  this  had  suffered  severely  at 
the  hands  of  the  ravaging  Canares  who  had  followed 
Pizarro's  march,  and  from  Spaniards  on  their  way  to 
Cuzco,  for  recruits  were  already  flowing  in ;  but  Pedro  had 
stopped  there  on  his  way  to  Xilcala,  and  his  reappearance 
was  welcome. 

On  the  following  morning  the  party  encountered  an 
interruption  wholly  deranging  their  plans.  Cristoval  and 
Pedro  were  preparing  for  the  journey  when  the  curaca 
entered,  showing  some  embarrassment.  He  greeted  them 
cordially,  but  advised  them  not  to  leave  that  day.  In  fact, 
it  would  be  impossible.  The  roads  were  occupied.  The 
town  —  it  was  distressing  —  was  surrounded  by  the  troops 
of  the  Inca !  Pedro  whistled. 

"  By  the  fighting  San  Miguel ! "  exploded  Cristoval, 


A  MARCH  AND  ANOTHER  REUNION      321 

in  Spanish.  "  We  are  prisoners,  Pedro !  What  sayst 
thou  to  that?  " 

Pedro  sat  down.  "  Why,  stew  me !  —  like  the  ancient 
Roman  soldier  who  was  hit  in  the  belly  by  a  stone  from 
a  catapult,  I  have  very  little  to  say." 

"  Viracochas,"  said  the  curaca,  earnestly,  "  I  pray  you 
have  no  uneasiness.  The  General  Matopo  commanding 
shall  be  informed  of  your  rescue  of  the  Nusta  Rava,  Vira- 
cocha  Cristoval,  of  which  Markumi  hath  told  me.  That 
service  will  insure  you  against  any  danger  soever." 

"  Danger !  Then  we  might  be  in  danger,  is  it  so, 
Curaca?  Are  these  troops  marching  against  the 
Viracochas?  " 

"  You  will  readily  understand,  Viracocha  Cristoval, 
it  is  not  permitted  me  to  know." 

Cristoval  resumed  his  arming.  "  Well,  it  might  be 
worse.  If  Pizarro  had  us  pent  in  this  fashion  it  would  be 
a  short  shrift  for  me,  Pedro,  and  belike,  would  call  for 
some  painful  lying  from  thee  to  explain  thine  indiscretion 
in  choice  of  company.  But  let  us  step  out  and  see  what 
is  to  be  seen." 

They  found  several  Xilcalans  at  the  outer  door,  watch 
ing  a  battalion  just  entering  the  square.  The  two  Span 
iards  halted,  struck  by  its  martial  appearance  as  it  massed 
in  the  plaza. 

An  officer  of  middle  age  wearing  a  noble's  ear  orna 
ments  was  followed  by  a  group  of  twenty  or  more,  many 
with  the  same  insignia,  and  all  brilliant  in  the  uniform  of 
the  Conibos,  a  northern  tribe  from  the  valley  of  the  Hual- 
laga.  Beside  the  officer  was  the  curaca,  talking  earnestly. 
The  party  turned  aside  from  the  direct  line  of  march  to 
permit  the  passage  of  their  column,  and  halted.  The 
curaca  approached  to  summon  the  Spaniards. 

The  commander  eyed  the  two  mail-clad  figures  with 
interest,  but  the  sight  of  Pedro's  wooden  leg  required  all 


322  THE    CRIMSON    CONQUEST 

his  self-possession  to  avoid  a  display  of  astonishment. 
His  salutation  was  not  unfriendly,  but  the  Spaniards  were 
aware  that  they  were  prisoners.  "  Viracochas,"  said  he, 
after  the  curaca  had  presented  them,  "  it  seemeth  an  ill 
return  for  our  indebtedness,  of  which  the  curaca  informeth 
me,  but  it  is  necessary  that  you  accompany  us.  I  assure 
you  that  one  who  hath  befriended  the  Nusta  Rava  need 
fear  nothing  more  than  inconvenience.  Were  it  in  my 
discretion  I  would  not  impose  even  that ;  but  I  am  respon 
sible  for  the  secrecy  of  the  movement  of  my  troops,  and 
you  will  understand  the  necessity  which  compelleth  me. 
In  order,  however,  to  avoid  undue  restraint,  I  will  accept 
your  words  that  you  make  no  effort  to  escape." 

"  Thou  mayst  depend  upon  us,  my  lord,"  said  Cris- 
toval.  "  There  is,  however,  one  request.  I  have  an  escort 
of  Xilcalans  whom  I  count  as  friends.  Will  my  lord  per 
mit  that  they  accompany  me?  " 

"  Gladly,"  said  the  general,  "  if  they  so  choose.  We 
shall  meet  to-night,  Viracochas.  May  the  Sun  guard 
you!" 

He  moved  off  with  his  officers,  leaving  one  to  follow 
with  the  two  captives,  and  they  hastened  to  saddle.  Tak 
ing  leave  of  the  curaca,  they  joined  the  waiting  officer  and, 
followed  by  the  Xilcalans,  fell  into  an  interval  between 
battalions. 

The  command  went  into  bivouac  late  at  night,  and 
Matopo  sent  for  his  prisoners  to  join  him  at  supper.  Sev 
eral  subordinate  officers  shared  the  meal,  and  to  them  and 
to  the  old  noble  it  was  an  incident,  for  these  were  the 
first  they  had  seen  of  the  Viracochas.  Matopo  soon  be 
came  assured  of  Cristoval's  sympathy  with  the  cause  of 
Rava's  people,  though  the  cavalier  avoided  direct  expres 
sion,  merely  relating,  at  the  general's  request,  the  details 
of  his  association  with  Atahualpa  and  the  subsequent  en 
mity  of  Pizarro.  When  he  remembered  and  drew  forth  the 


A    MARCH    AND    ANOTHER   REUNION     323 

Inca's  last  gift,  the  fringe  from  the  royal  ttaatu,  the  effect 
was  magical.  The  officers  bent  before  it  with  reverence 
little  less  than  the  actual  presence  of  the  monarch  would 
have  inspired,  and  Cristoval  found  himself  elevated  to  a 
dignity  as  great  as  it  was  unexpected.  The  half-forgotten 
trifle  was  a  talisman. 

"  Viracocha  Cristoval,"  said  Matopo,  gravely,  as  the 
cavalier  replaced  the  potent  cord,  "  thou  bearest  a  warrant 
from  the  Inca.  No  man  in  Tavantinsuyu  will  withhold 
from  it  his  recognition.  It  is  a  rare  credential,  and  de- 
mandeth  the  confidence  in  its  possessor  reposed  in  him  by 
the  Inca  himself.  The  Inca  Atahualpa  won  his  throne  by 
arms,  but  he  was  the  Inca.  Thou  hadst  done  well  to  show 
me  the  fringe  this  morning,  but  I  will  make  what  repara 
tion  is  possible.  Thou  'rt  free,  Viracocha." 

This  result  was  so  unforeseen  that  Cristoval  failed  to 
comprehend  the  change  in  his  situation,  and  the  general 
repeated :  "  Thou  'rt  free,  Viracocha  Cristoval,  and  I  have 
only  to  ask  that  I  be  allowed  to  make  thee  amends." 

"  I  thank  thee,  General  Matopo.  There  hath  been  no 
inconvenience,  for,  as  I  have  said,  we  were  journeying 
toward  Cuzco.  But  —  my  comrade  ?  " 

Matopo  shook  his  head.  "  Mine  authority  can  go  no 
farther.  I  shall  be  compelled  to  retain  him." 

"  Then  with  thy  leave  we  will  remain  together." 

Matopo's  surprise  was  as  evident  as  his  relief.  His 
relief  was  equal  to  his  uneasiness,  what  there  was  of  it, 
lest  the  secret  movement  of  his  troops  might  be  im 
perilled  by  the  Viracocha's  liberation.  "  No  need  to  ask 
my  leave,"  he  replied,  quickly ;  "  but  you  will  go  as  my 
guests,  and  I  believe  I  can  promise  that  he  will  not  be  long 
deprived  of  his  liberty." 

Two  weeks  later  the  column  approached  the  village 
of  Abancay,  where  it  would  cross  the  river  Apurimac. 
Cristoval  and  Pedro  were  walking  with  Matopo  at  the 


324  THE    CRIMSON    CONQUEST 

head  of  the  main  body,  leading  their  steeds.  As  they 
neared  the  village  they  could  see  that  it  was  occupied  by 
the  advance  guard.  As  they  descended  into  the  plain  a 
soldier  came  at  top  speed  to  announce  that  there  were  two 
Viracochas  in  the  village,  apparently  not  soldiers,  and  that 
there  was  some  difficulty  in  securing  them. 

"  Shall  we  ride  forward,  my  Lord  Matopo?  "  asked 
Cristoval. 

"  It  would  be  well,"  replied  the  general,  "  else  the 
Viracochas  may  lose  their  lives  in  resisting." 

The  two  Spaniards  were  off  at  a  gallop.  The  soldiers 
scattered  before  them,  and  they  drew  rein  at  the  square. 
At  the  sight  of  the  two  Viracochas  Pedro  raised  a 
shout : — 

"  The  senora,  by  the  infernal  cook  of  cooks !  —  and 
Father  Tendilla!" 

The  square  was  full  of  excited  soldiers,  leaving  a 
swaying  ring  in  the  middle,  occupied  by  the  lady  and  the 
priest  mounted  on  mules.  The  father  had  the  reins  of  her 
steed,  which  was  facing  his  own,  plunging,  rearing,  and 
kicking  incredibly  at  the  surrounding  line  of  Conibos  who 
repelled  it  with  their  javelins.  Its  rider,  clinging  franti 
cally  to  her  pommel  with  one  hand,  half-blinded  by  her 
sombrero  which  had  been  jolted  over  her  eyes,  fitfully 
whirled  her  battle-axe  with  the  other  in  fruitless  efforts  to 
reach  the  helmeted  heads.  She  was  red-faced,  shaken,  and 
storming.  The  poor  priest,  hatless  and  nearly  unseated 
by  every  plunge  of  his  companion's  mule,  tugged  des 
perately  at  the  reins,  while  half-a-dozen  officers  circled 
about,  dodging  the  heels  of  the  frenzied  animal,  and 
entirely  helpless  before  a  situation  transcending  their  wild 
est  dreams. 

"  Bra-va,  Bolio !  Brava,  Bolio !  "  roared  Pedro,  pushing 
forward.  "  Strike  for  Spain !  Cristo  y  San  Miguel!  Strike 
for  Spain!  Brawamente /" 


A    MARCH    AND   ANOTHER   REUNION     325 

At  the  familiar  voice  the  axe  ceased  to  whirl,  and 
between  plunges  the  serfora  tilted  back  her  sombrero. 
"  Pedro ! "  she  shouted  wildly,  then  gave  attention  to  re- 
taining  her  seat,  while  the  mule  delivered  another  succes 
sion  of  kicks.  Cristoval  motioned  the  soldiers  back  as  he 
spurred  into  the  ring.  Pedro  rode  up,  slipped  his  hand 
along  the  reins  of  her  steed,  seized  them  close  to  the 
bit,  and  stopped  the  plunging.  Cristoval  assisted  the 
flustered  lady  to  the  ground,  too  breathless  to  speak.  He 
quieted  the  blowing  mule  while  Pedro  and  Father  Tendilla 
dismounted.  The  former  hastened  to  the  agitated  senora, 
and  at  last  she  was  able  to  gasp :  — 

"  Pedro  —  on  my  soul !  —  hast  dropped  from  heaven?  " 

"  Heaven  forbid ! "  said  Pedro,  surveying  her  with 
concern.  "  I  'm  crippled  enough  as  't  is.  But  thou  'rt 
unhurt?" 

"  Oh,  these  heathens !  "  panted  the  senora. 

"  I  've  known  Christians  who  were  worse,"  said  Pedro. 
"  But,  art  sound  and  whole?  " 

"  If  I  could  but  have  reached  one  of  them !  But, 
blessed  name!  how  comest  thou  here,  Pedro?  " 

"Prisoner  of  war  —  like  thyself.    Art  uninjured?" 

"  Like  myself!  "  snorted  the  lady.  "  Who  hath  made 
me  a  prisoner  of  war?  Prisoner  of  fiddle-de-dee !  Drum 
sticks  ! "  She  glared  vindictively  at  the  wondering  sol 
diery.  "  Let  one  of  them  bite  his  tongue  at  me !  " 

"  Btteno  I  There  are  only  five  thousand,"  remarked 
Pedro.  "  But  tell  me,  what  dost  thou  here?  " 

"  Oh,  Pedro,  I  am  going  to  Cuzco  to  see  that  angel  of 
a  girl  I  The  father  took  it  in  mind  to  go,  so  I  came  with 
him  —  but  such  a  time!  He  hath  been  as  much  care  as 
a  baby." 

"  Calm  yourself,  my  dear  Senora.*' 

The  senora  sniffed  scornfully.  "Is  that  Peralta?  I 
scarce  knew  him  without  his  beard.  He  seemeth  friendly 


326  THE    CRIMSON    CONQUEST 

enough  with  these  fripperied  Indians.  He  might  be  in 
better  company  —  and  so  mightst  thou,  Pedro.  'T  is 
little  credit  to  you  both." 

"  We  are  prisoners,  Sefiora." 

"Prisoners,  forsooth!  Well,  if  I  were  a  manl  But 
thou  'rt  too  good-natured,  Pedro,  for  thine  own  good. 
And  thou  'rt  a  love  to  rescue  me,"  she  added,  tenderly. 

Pedro  stepped  back  a  pace  and  looked  uneasily  about. 
"  Nay,  Sefiora  Bolio,"  he  said,  hastily,  "  it  was  not  I.  It 
was  Peralta.  Wait.  I  '11  call  him." 

"  Oh,  thou  'rt  so  modest,  Pedro !  I  tell  thee,  it  was 
thou!  But  hold!  God  ha'  mercy!  I  had  almost  for 
gotten  to  tell  thee.  Thou  'rt  undone !  They  have  entered 
thy  lodging  in  Xauxa,  broken  into  thy  chests,  and  taken 
thy  belongings." 

"  Furies  and  devils ! "  exclaimed  the  cook,  sharply. 
"  Who  have?  " 

"  Those  runnion  pikemen  from  the  fortress." 

At  once  flashed  over  him  the  use  he  had  planned  to 
make  of  his  savings  in  aiding  Cristoval  to  escape.  He  spun 
around  once  on  his  peg  and  swore  with  such  violence  that 
the  cavalier  and  Father  Tendilla  hurried  up. 

"  My  son,  my  son !  "  cried  the  priest,  placing  a  hand 
upon  his  shoulder.  "  Thy  tongue  is  imperilling  thy  soul." 

"Name  of  a  saint,  Pedro!  What  hath  happened?" 
demanded  Cristoval,  anxiously. 

"  Happened !  "  shouted  Pedro.  "  Scurviness  hath  hap 
pened.  Thievery  hath  happened.  Sack,  plunder,  house- 
breaking,  and  depredation  have  happened.  Those  rake- 
hells  of  the  infantry  have  robbed  me.  Oh,  hoop  me  with 
hoops  lest  I  burst  before  I  Ve  killed  a  pikeman !  " 

He  ceased  abruptly  and  went  to  his  mule,  leaving  the 
senora  to  explain.  She  did  so  with  brevity  and  emphasis, 
and  Cristoval  turned  to  the  priest  in  disgust :  "  We  've 
brought  a  mangy  pack,  Father  Tendilla,  to  set  loose  upon 


A   MARCH    AND    ANOTHER   REUNION     327 

these  hapless  people.  They  turn  to  robbing  one  another 
before  they've  done  robbing  the  country."  The  father 
shook  his  head  sadly,  but  made  no  reply. 

The  advance  guard  moved  on,  and  Matopo  passed 
with  his  officers,  casting  a  curious  glance  at  the  seriora 
as  he  bowed.  She  responded  with  a  haughty  inclination 
and  compressed  her  lips.  It  required  all  the  persuasive 
eloquence  of  her  three  countrymen  to  induce  her  to  mount 
and  enter  the  column;  but  finding  separation  from  Pedro 
the  alternative,  she  at  last  consented,  declaring  vigorously 
that  the  barbarian  who  undertook  to  make  a  prisoner  of 
her  would  repent  his  insolence  and  remember  the  circum 
stance.  She  swung  into  her  saddle,  disdaining  assistance, 
and  they  were  soon  on  the  march. 

Now  Cristoval's  good  heart  was  warmed  by  later  news 
of  Rava.  He  rode  with  Father  Tendilla,  listening  with 
eagerness  to  the  tale  of  her  sojourn  at  Xauxa,  given  with 
detail  and  sympathy  by  the  kindly  old  priest,  who  was 
glowing  in  his  eulogies  of  the  gentle  proselyte.  The  cava 
lier's  hundred  repeated  questions  were  patiently  answered 
over  and  over,  and  before  an  hour  Cristoval  had  unbos 
omed  himself,  candidly  revealing  his  hope  of  escape  with 
her  from  the  country.  The  priest  listened  to  the  plan,  and 
said:  — 

"Well,  my  son,  it  will  be  for  the  child  a  hazardous 
undertaking.  However,  it  will  be  in  the  guidance  of 
Heaven.  I  had  thought  the  maiden  might  find  refuge  from 
her  sorrows  in  a  life  of  holiness,  for  which  her  spirit  seem- 
eth  well  adapted.  If  it  be  otherwise  ordained,  it  would  not 
beseem  me  to  oppose,  and  I  will  do  all  in  my  power  to 
further  thy  happiness  and  hers." 

"  I  thank  you,  father,"  said  Cristoval.  "  But  do  you 
know  whether  Rava  is  aware  that  I  am  living?" 

"  I  know  not.  I  have  written  to  Father  Valverde  since 
I  learned  it  from  the  youth  whom  thou  didst  send  from 


328 

Xilcala,  but  have  had  no  reply.  Cafiares  have  been  abroad, 
and  communication  uncertain.  The  messenger  may  not 
have  passed  them.  I  have  come  myself,  therefore,  thinking 
to  bear  the  news,  but  it  hath  ended  —  thus,"  —  and  he  cast 
a.  look  over  the  battalions. 

"  Doubtless  we  can  send  her  word,"  said  Cristoval. 
"  Matopo  saith  she  is  likely  to  be  at  Yucay,  where  the 
Incas  have  a  castle.  I  think  we  may  reach  her,  good 
father." 

"  I  pray  it  may  be  so,  surely,"  replied  Tendilla. 

That  night  the  command  encamped  on  the  elevated 
plain  of  Curahuasi,  awaiting  the  morrow  to  cross  the 
Apurimac.  Before  daylight  it  was  moving  again,  and 
shortly  the  head  of  the  column  was  threading  its  way  down 
the  wall  of  the  chasm  whence  rose  the  faint  murmur  of  the 
torrent,  thousands  of  feet  below.  The  trail  seemed  to 
Cristoval  a  mere  scratch  on  the  cliff.  At  his  elbow  rose  the 
rock-mass,  so  steep  that  scarcely  a  shrub  found  clinging- 
place,  while  almost  beneath  his  stirrup  the  precipice 
dropped  away  to  an  abyss.  The  descent,  at  first  moderate, 
became  so  rapid  as  it  zig-zagged  from  point  to  point  that 
every  step  threatened  to  plunge  horse  and  rider  headlong. 
Generations  of  wayfarers  had  worn  the  rock  treacherously 
smooth,  and  he  presently  dismounted  to  lead  his  horse. 
The  others  followed  his  example,  and  he  heard  the  senora 
whimpering  to  Pedro.  Gingerly  now  he  went,  hugging 
closely  to  points  which  so  crowded  the  path  that  his  saddle 
bow  was  scraped  by  the  overhanging  wall.  In  places 
the  descent  was  by  steps  hewn  into  the  granite,  down 
which  his  horse  blundered  perilously,  menaced  at  every 
slip  by  a  hideous  fall  into  vacancy.  Cristoval's  eyes  were 
drawn  to  the  brink  in  resistless  fascination,  and  he  crept 
along  with  shrinking  soul.  He  heard  Pedro  muttering: 
"  Martyred  saints  —  and  spirits  damned !  This  is  what 
cometh  —  of  being  a  cook ! " 


329 

They  were  hours  descending,  but  the  hours  seemed 
days.  At  length  the  path  lost  itself  in  the  blackness  of 
a  cavern-mouth.  Cristoval  found  himself  in  a  reverberat 
ing  tunnel  driven  three  hundred  yards  through  living  rock. 
Openings  on  the  right  admitted  air  and  the  growing  thun 
der  of  the  torrent.  In  the  open  again  for  another  giddy, 
stumbling  clamber  down  a  hundred  fathoms;  and  the 
bridge!  Cristoval  whispered  a  prayer.  From  a  narrow 
shelf  it  swung  out  over  the  chasm  in  a  long,  sweeping  curve 
to  its  anchorage  on  the  farther  side,  a  mere  gossamer 
swaying  in  the  breeze  and  vibrating  fearfully  beneath  the 
soldiers'  tread.  Cristoval  quailed  within  his  steel  at  its 
frailty.  From  a  huge  windlass  on  the  platform  beside 
him  stretched  three  cables  of  four  or  five  inches  in  thick 
ness,  forming  the  support  for  the  narrow  floor.  Above  and 
on  either  side  was  a  smaller  cable  connected  with  the  floor 
supports  by  ropes,  and  serving  as  guard-rails,  though  the 
security  afforded  was  largely  moral,  the  vertical  spaces 
between  the  cords  being  large  enough  to  admit  of  a  fall 
through  at  any  point. 

As  Cristoval  looked  out  over  the  quivering  one  hun 
dred  and  fifty  feet  of  fragility,  listening  to  the  lugubrious 
creaking  of  the  cables  at  their  anchorage,  his  hardihood 
slowly  oozed.  The  bridge  was  now  clear  for  his  passage. 
He  swore  a  little  in  undertone,  piously  consigned  himself 
to  the  Virgin's  keeping,  and  led  off.  His  horse  sniffed  at 
the  footway  with  deep-drawn  breaths  and  long,  tremulous 
expirations,  but  followed  at  his  word.  A  stiff  breeze  was 
blowing  up  the  canyon,  swinging  the  structure  rhythmically 
through  an  arc  of  six  or  eight  feet,  and  Cristoval's  brain 
reeled  as  he  glanced  at  the  sinister,  whirling  rush  of  green 
and  foam  bellowing  a  hundred  feet  below.  Steadying  his 
eyes  on  a  point  ahead,  he  picked  his  way  out  into  the  air. 
An  age  in  crossing,  but  at  last  he  neared  the  end.  Here 
his  weight  and  that  of  the  horse  shifted  the  sag  of  the 


330  THE    CRIMSON    CONQUEST 

cables  so  that  the  last  few  feet  were  a  steep  ascent  with 
scant  foothold;  but  he  scrambled  up,  and  with  a  sigh  of 
relief,  stood  on  solid  ground.  He  looked  back.  Father 
Tendilla  was  following,  leading  his  mule  and  holding  his 
hat  in  place,  the  wind  tossing  and  tearing  at  his  robe,  and 
the  cavalier  turned  giddy  again  as  he  watched  the  old 
priest's  slow  advance  over  the  narrow,  swinging  floor. 
Cristoval  gave  him  a  hand  at  the  end,  and  fairly  jerked 
him  to  safety  on  the  shelf. 

/  Pedro  and  the  senora  were  to  follow,  and  here 
occurred  a  pause.  The  lady  balked.  She  seated  herself 
on  the  windlass,  swelling  with  negation. 

"  Cross  that  unholy  thing  of  strings  and  straws, 
Pedro?  "  she  exclaimed,  indignantly.  "  Not  if  I  were  a 
spider !  'T  is  a  device  of  the  devil,  and  may  the  devil  fly 
away  with  it,  or  roost  upon  it !  It  is  no  place  for  a  Chris 
tian.  I  '11  go  round,  and  that 's  an  end  to 't !  " 

"  Go  round !  "  retorted  Pedro,  impatiently.  "  Thou  'It 
march  four  hundred  leagues  to  go  around,  Senora." 

"  Then  I  '11  go  back." 

"  Impossible  to  go  back.    The  trail  is  full." 

"Then  I'll  sit  here  till  'tis  empty." 

"  Oh,  the  fiend,  woman !  Dost  not  see  they  cannot 
pass  for  our  mules?  The  column  is  waiting." 

"  Then  let  the  column  wait  and  twiddle  its  fingers ! 
The  column  can  wait  till  it  turneth  to  a  column  of  wait 
ing  mummies  if  it  see  fit,  but  I  '11  not  put  foot  to  that 
bridge!" 

Pedro  stared  at  her  helplessly.  The  way  was  blocked. 
Ocallo  with  his  mule  was  behind  them,  and  the  narrow 
platform  was  full,  the  column  at  a  standstill,  its  head 
at  a  safe  distance  from  the  heels  of  the  rearmost  animal. 
Somewhere,  Matopo  was  storming,  his  voice  rising  above 
the  roar  of  the  stream,  and  echoing  and  reechoing  weirdly 
between  the  granite  walls.  Cristoval  was  hailing,  and 


A    MARCH    AND    ANOTHER    REUNION     331 

shortly  began  to  swear.  The  lady  tossed  her  head,  and 
pulling  up  a  spear  of  grass,  began  to  chew  its  end.  Pedro 
laughed  with  exasperation;  opened  his  mouth,  but  finding 
no  expletives  to  fit  the  situation,  closed  it  again  and  grew 
excessively  red.  The  soldiers  in  the  rear  began  to  murmur. 
Pedro  contained  himself  with  an  effort,  and  began 
sadly :  — 

"  Well,  so  it  must  be,  Senora!  Adiosl  I  shall  remem 
ber  thee.  I  shall  think  of  thee  with  a  pang.  I  shall  see 
thee  ever  in  my  darkest  moments,  sitting  dreary  amid  the 
lonely  majesty  of  the  eternal  mountains  on  an  uncushioned 
windlass,  a  spear  of  grass  thine  only  sustenance,  whilst 
tempest  and  avalanche  thunder  about  thee  throughout  the 
drift  of  years.  Adios,  Sefiora !  Thou  'It  be  in  my  dreams, 
a  silent,  graceful,  but  resolute  form,  waiting  in  solitude, 
holding  the  brittle  remnants  of  a  pair  of  reins;  at  thy  feet 
a  shrunken,  staring,  decayed  cadaver  of  a  mule,  giving 
voiceless,  desiccated  testimony  of  thine  inflexibility.  Adios  I 
Adiosl  I  go.  Come,  thou,  my  steadfast  and  faithful 
steed,  we  obey  the  pointed  finger  of  destiny.  Fata  nos 
nolentes  irakunt  I " 

Pedro  turned  away,  and  straining  to  produce  a  sob, 
fetched  a  hiccough,  and  led  to  the  bridge.  The  lady,  at 
first  bewildered  by  his  burst  of  gloomy  eloquence,  then 
touched  by  the  profound  melancholy  with  which  it  was 
delivered,  melted  from  determination  to  tenderness.  As 
he  stepped  upon  the  floor  she  rose,  glanced  about  despair 
ingly,  and  shouted :  — 

"  Hold,  Pedro,  thou  dear  love  of  a  man !  I  follow ! 
Wait  for  me,  thou  poor  thing  —  and  the  fiend  take  the 
bridge  and  its  makers  if  it  serve  me  not  across !  " 

But  at  the  terror  of  the  swaying  structure  she  faltered, 
and  Pedro  turned.  "  Nay,  Senora !  "  he  cried,  in  a  voice  of 
sad  but  gentle  deprecation,  and  raising  his  hand,  "'tis 
too  much.  I  ask  it  not.  Turn  back." 


333  THE   CRIMSON    CONQUEST 

For  answer  she  sat  down,  and  in  her  desperation  heed 
less  of  exposure  of  limb,  began  sliding  down  the  steep 
incline,  clutching  and  moaning  plaintively,  the  feminine 
now  wholly  uppermost.  At  last  she  neared  Pedro's  mule, 
and  he  called :  — 

"  Stand  up,  my  dear,  and  grasp  his  tail." 

"  Oh  —  God's  mercy !  —  he  will  kick !  "  she  replied,  in 
a  shuddering  wail. 

"  Nay,  stew  me !  a  fly  would  not  venture  to  kick  out 
here,"  answered  Pedro,  with  feeling.  "  Seize  his  tail !  " 

She  did  so,  and  with  many  a  piteous  whine  and  gasp, 
was  at  length  across  the  abyss. 


CHAPTER  XXX 

An  Encounter  on  the  Plain  of  Chita 

WITHIN  a  few  days  after  the  passage  of  the 
Apurimac  Matopo  crossed,  by  a  rapid  night 
march,  the  plateau  of  Chita,  not  many 
leagues  from  Cuzco.  He  moved  "with  cau 
tion,  and  halted,  near  morning,  at  the  eastern  edge  of  the 
plain,  awaiting  daylight  before  the  descent  into  the  valley 
of  the  Urubamba  where  lay  Ollantaytambo,  the  rendez 
vous  of  the  Inca's  forces  and  his  objective. 

The  column  moved  at  sunrise.  Below,  a  full  mile 
almost  straight  down,  spread  the  floor  of  the  valley.  The 
road  was  a  masterpiece  of  engineering.  At  points  it  was 
hewn  out  of  the  solid  rock;  at  others,  supported  by 
masonry;  but  everywhere  of  even  breadth  and  gradient, 
and  smoothly  paved.  Cristoval  soon  had  a  view  of  a  dis 
tant  town  which  Matopo  said  was  Urubamba,  clinging  to 
the  lower  slopes  of  the  opposite  mountains,  and  near  it  the 
palace  of  Yucay,  faintly  visible.  He  saw  it  with  a  heart 
throb,  for  here  might  be  Rava. 

Upon  reaching  the  plain  the  command  went  into  bi 
vouac.  Three  days  of  forced  marches  had  been  exhausting, 
and  at  the  earliest  moment  possible  Cristoval  disarmed, 
stretched  himself  upon  his  cloak  under  a  terrace  wall,  and 
was  soon  asleep.  He  was  roused  by  a  Conibo.  The  sun, 
far  past  the  meridian,  apprised  him  that  he  had  slept  long. 

"  Viracocha,"  said  the  soldier,  as  the  cavalier  sat  up, 
"the  general  would  see  you  at  once." 


334  THE    CRIMSON    CONQUEST 

Cristoval  noticed  the  man's  perturbation,  and  gathered 
up  his  cloak  to  follow.  He  saw  signs  of  unusual  agitation 
among  the  Conibos,  and  that  the  few  still  sleeping  were 
being  roused.  Those  awake  were  gathered  in  knots,  some 
conversing  excitedly,  but  most  were  standing  about,  silent 
and  profoundly  depressed.  Those  he  passed  glanced  at 
him  darkly  and  turned  away,  some  with  muttered  words 
which  he  could  not  hear.  The  cavalier,  though  wondering, 
was  little  disturbed;  but  he  grew  more  concerned  at  the 
gloom  and  gravity  of  Matopo  and  his  assembled  officers. 
As  he  drew  near  he  saw  several  nobles  in  the  group  quite 
unknown  to  him,  who  had  apparently  just  arrived. 

"  Di6s  I  Something  hath  gone  awry,"  he  said  to  him 
self,  and  hurried  his  steps.  Matopo  said  abruptly, 

"  Viracocha,  the  Inca  hath  been  made  a  prisoner." 

Cristoval  stopped,  thunderstruck,  and  looked  about 
the  grim-faced  circle.  For  a  moment  he  was  speechless, 
then  demanded  sharply:  "  A  prisoner,  sayst  thou!  Where 
is  he  a  prisoner?  Who  hath  made  him  prisoner?  " 

"  Ah,  who  I  "  returned  Matopo,  fiercely.  "  Who  but 
the  Viracochas?  He  is  in  the  Sachsahuaman.  He  was 
taken  on  his  way  to  Ollantaytambo.  The  Auqui  Paullo, 
the  Nustas,  and  most  of  his  household  are  held  in  the 
palace  at  Cuzco,  with  —  " 

Cristoval  interrupted  him  with  a  savage  oath.  "  The 
Nusta  Rava?  Is  she  again  in  the  power  of  those  hell 
hounds?  " 

"  All  who  were  within  the  palace.  Guards  were  put 
around  it  the  moment  it  was  known  that  the  Inca  had  left 
the  city." 

Cristoval  stood  glowering,  observed  with  some  aston 
ishment  by  the  strangers,  who,  although  already  aware 
of  his  identity,  were  unprepared  for  his  demonstration, 
and  still  less  so  for  his  vehement  demand :  — 

"  Matopo,  what  dost  purpose?    Whatever  it  may  be 


AN    ENCOUNTER   ON    THE    PLAIN      335 

must  be  quickly  done,  for  I  tell  thee,  the  Inca's  life  is  not 
worth  a  hair  among  those  miscreants,  and  should  they 
suspect  preparations  for  war  it  would  not  be  worth  — " 
and  he  snapped  his  fingers.  "  What  is  thy  purpose?  " 

"  Viracocha,  this  is  my  Lord  Quehuar,"  said  Matopo, 
indicating  the  noble  beside  him.  "  In  the  absence  of  the 
Inca  he  is  in  command." 

The  cavalier  turned  to  him  with  as  much  force  as  he 
had  addressed  Matopo.  "  Lord  Quehuar,  if  the  movement 
of  thy  troops  is  known  in  Cuzco,  there  is  not  an  hour  to 
lose.  The  Pizarros  will  hesitate  less  to  kill  the  Inca  than 
in  killing  Atahualpa.  Thou  must  act  without  delay.  Have 
measures  been  taken  for  his  rescue?  " 

The  old  noble  hesitated  before  replying.  But  there 
was  that  in  Cristoval's  manner,  in  his  vigorous  intensity 
of  speech,  and  his  total  unconsciousness  of  any  considera 
tion  other  than  the  Inca's  danger,  that  banished  doubt  and 
commanded  deference.  The  old  Indio  felt  it,  and  without 
loss  of  dignity. 

"  No  steps  have  yet  been  taken,  Viracocha,"  he  said, 
"  for  we  have  just  been  released  from  Cuzco.  Nothing  is 
known  of  the  assembling  of  the  Inca's  troops.  We  have 
arrived  at  no  determination.  The  calamity  is  over 
powering." 

Cristoval  took  a  step  forward  as  he  answered,  "The 
calamity  will  grow  hourly,  Lord  Quehuar.  The  Inca  must 
be  released.  Is  the  fortress  strongly  garrisoned?  " 

"  Not  strongly.    Some  thirty  Viracochas." 

"  Good !  "  cried  Cristoval.  "  Give  me  a  hundred  men 
and  some  one  who  knoweth  the  fortress,  and  we  will  re 
lease  him.  —  Hola,  Pedro !  " 

" Aqttil  Here!"  answered  the  approaching  cook. 
"  What  is  to  do  now?  I  have  been  shaken  and  thumped, 
and  despoiled  of  sleep  worth  a  castella.no  the  minute. 
What  is  wrong,  Cristoval?" 


336  THE    CRIMSON    CONQUEST 

Cristoval  replied  in  Quichua,  "  The  Inca  hath  been 
imprisoned,  and  the  Nusta  Rava  is  again  in  toils."  Pedro 
halted  with  an  exclamation,  and  Cristoval  continued,  "  I 
say  that  with  a  hundred  followers  we  can  release  him, 
Pedro.  What  sayst  thou  —  wilt  go?  " 

"  Thou  knowest,  Cristoval ! "  replied  the  cook,  with 
force.  "  But  hast  forgotten  that  I  am  myself  a  prisoner?  " 

Cristoval  faced  Matopo  and  demanded,  "  What  of  this, 
my  lord?  Wilt  accept  his  word?" 

The  general  signified  his  willingness  emphatically, 
and  Cristoval  again  turned  to  Quehuar  with  impetuosity: 
"  My  Lord  Quehuar,  permit  us  to  march  to-night." 

Mocho,  the  fiery,  strode  forward.  "  Let  me  take  a 
battalion  of  my  Antis,  General.  I  know  the  fortress  to 
the  last  stone." 

Quehuar  deliberated,  and  turned  to  the  other  nobles. 
"  My  lords,  we  will  consider  it.  Viracochas,  we  thank  you 
for  the  offer  of  your  swords."  He  bowed.  Taking  Pedro's 
arm,  Cristoval  withdrew. 

The  conference  was  prolonged.  Doubts  were  ex 
pressed  by  some  concerning  the  prudence  of  trusting  a 
Viracocha,  and  Matopo  was  questioned  closely.  Markumi 
and  the  other  Xilcalans  were  summoned,  and  finally,  Cris 
toval  himself.  His  manifest  sincerity  determined  the 
matter,  and  a  chasqui  was  sent  speeding  to  Ollantaytambo, 
some  hours  away,  bearing  a  command  from  Mocho  to  his 
Antis. 

Upon  Pedro  fell  the  task  of  apprising  the  senora 
of  a  short  expedition  with  Cristoval,  and  of  persuading 
her  to  accompany  Matopo  to  Ollantaytambo.  This 
the  cook  achieved  with  rare  diplomacy.  The  lady,  vehe 
ment  in  her  obduracy  for  a  time,  in  the  end  consented, 
and  with  Father  Tendilla,  marched  with  the  Conibos 
that  afternoon.  The  Antis  arrived  at  nightfall,  two  hun 
dred  strong,  the  pick  of  Mocho's  warriors.  At  dawn  the 


AN    ENCOUNTER   ON   THE    PLAIN      337 

expedition  moved,  with  Cristoval  and  Pedro  beside  Mocho 
at  its  head. 

Leaving  the  valley  for  the  plateau  of  Chita,  they  took 
the  direct  road  to  the  capital.  Not  long  after  midday 
a  scout  came  in  to  say  that  two  mounted  Viracochas, 
accompanied  by  a  third  man  on  foot,  were  approaching 
from  the  direction  of  Cuzco.  The  two  riders  were  in  armor 
and  bore  lances.  The  pedestrian  was  a  native,  and  ap 
peared  to  be  captive.  Mocho  heard  the  report  and  cast 
a  critical  glance  over  the  country  about.  Some  distance 
ahead  was  a  low  plain,  boggy  in  spots  beside  the  road,  and 
surrounded  by  broken,  rocky  knolls.  With  a  directness 
gratifying  to  Cristoval's  soldierly  taste,  Mocho  broke  his 
command  into  parties  to  surround  the  plain,  with  orders 
to  close  upon  it  by  squads  when  the  strangers  had 
reached  the  middle,  and  to  cover,  especially,  gullies  and 
slopes  which  might  offer  avenue  for  flight.  Enough  were 
retained  to  hold  the  road,  and  they  retired  to  a  rise  of 
ground  which  concealed  them  from  the  oncoming  party. 
Cristoval  looked  about  in  surprise.  The  two  hundred  had 
vanished  as  if  by  magic. 

The  wait  was  not  long,  and  as  the  strangers  descended 
the  opposite  slope  Cristoval  and  Pedro  spurred  forward. 
There  was  some  surprise  at  their  sudden  appearance,  but 
the  trio  did  not  halt.  Cristoval  and  his  companion  were 
first  to  reach  the  middle  of  the  plain,  and  drew  rein  to 
await  the  strangers,  who  advanced  without  suspicion. 
Cristoval  observed  that  the  man  on  foot  was  a  noble,  and 
seemingly  little  more  than  a  youth. 

Presently  one  of  the  two  mounted  Spaniards  hailed, 
and  Cristoval  dropped  his  visor  with  the  word :  "  Mendoza, 
by  the  saints ! "  Pedro  grunted  his  surprise  and  followed 
the  example,  but  neither  replied.  The  movement  and  si 
lence  seemed  to  excite  uneasiness,  for  the  trio  slowed  up, 
and  Mendoza  called  again:  — 

22 


338  THE   CRIMSON   CONQUEST 

"  Hola,  amigosl    How  far  to  Chinchero?" 

Cristoval  was  silent,  and  after  consultation  the  others 
advanced  scowling.  At  a  few  paces  they  halted,  and  Men- 
doza  demanded:  "  Come!  Have  ye  no  tongues,  you  two? 
If  ye  have,  find  them;  or  move  aside  and  give  us  way. 
Diablo  I  Is  it  thou,  cook?"  He  had  caught  sight  of 
Pedro's  peg,  and  surveyed  him  in  astonishment,  then 
Cristoval,  whom  he  failed  to  recognize  in  De  Valera's 
armor. 

Cristoval  saluted,  first  the  noble,  and  then,  with  de 
liberation,  each  of  the  two  cavaliers,  saying  graciously: 
"  Senores,  your  right  of  way  endeth  here.  We  have  waited 
to  inform  you." 

Mendoza  started.  "Ha!  Peralta!  God's  life!  — 
wilt  dispute  me  passage?  Stand  aside,  thou  —  " 

"  Gently,  Senor ! "  interrupted  Cristoval,  with  in 
creased  suavity.  "  Thy  way  endeth  here !  Canst  doubt 
it?  "  He  waved  his  hand  toward  the  hills,  and  the  two 
followed  his  gesture  with  an  exclamation.  The  Antis  were 
closing  rapidly  from  all  sides.  The  young  Indio  looked 
at  the  advancing  warriors  with  no  less  astonishment. 
Cristoval  went  on :  — 

"  However,  Senor  Mendoza,  the  circumstance  need 
not  prevent  our  personal  settlement  of  the  question  of  thy 
right  of  way.  Here  is  a  fair  level  of  road  —  " 

"Trapped,  by  the  fiend!  "  bellowed  Mendoza,  and  he 
turned  savagely  upon  the  noble.  "  Hast  played  us,  thou 
dog?  Well  done!  But  — "  He  cast  aside  his  lance 
and  drew  his  sword  — 

A  most  sudden  man,  this  Cristoval.  He  was  upon 
Mendoza  almost  before  the  sword  was  bared,  mace  in 
hand.  His  first  blow  crashed  upon  the  sword-wrist,  and 
the  murderous  weapon  clanged  upon  the  roadway.  The 
second  followed  like  lightning,  and  Mendoza  rolled  from 
his  saddle  with  a  shattered  helmet,  while  the  riderless 


AN    ENCOUNTER    ON    THE    PLAIN      339 

horse  dashed  across  the  plain.  The  second  cavalier 
whirled  his  steed  to  fly,  when  Pedro  charged  him,  struck 
him  in  mid-volt,  and  horse  and  rider  went  down  before 
the  impact. 

The  young  noble  had  sprung  back  out  of  danger,  be 
wildered,  and  hardly  less  shocked  by  the  unexpected  vio 
lence  and  clangor  than  if  the  earth  had  suddenly  opened. 
Cristoval  dismounted  and  was  bending  over  Mendoza, 
unable  to  determine  whether  the  man  was  dead,  and  not 
much  concerned.  The  other  rider  was  sitting  up,  in  some 
disorder  of  mind,  with  Pedro  hovering  over  him,  lance 
in  rest,  admonishing  him  gently  that  he  was  expected  to 
preserve  a  quiet  demeanor.  The  Antis  had  closed  upon 
the  group,  and  Cristoval  became  aware  of  a  hush  in 
the  encircling  line.  Every  man  was  upon  his  knees. 
Mocho  was  just  rising  from  a  prostration  before  the  young 
Indio. 

"Et  Inca  I "  ejaculated  Pedro.    "  God  bless  my  soul !  " 

Cristoval  started.  He  had  scarcely  noticed  the  youth, 
except  to  observe  that  he  wore  the  ear  ornaments  of  one 
of  rank;  but  now  he  saw  before  him  a  replica  of  the 
features  of  Rava,  darker,  ruggedly  masculine,  but  still 
the  well-remembered  traits.  The  llautu  was  absent.  The 
young  monarch  turned  from  Mocho  and  spoke  a  word  to 
the  Antis,  who  rose  with  a  shout,  tossing  shields  and 
javelins  in  a  frenzy  of  jubilation,  as  he  advanced  to  the 
astonished  Cristoval. 

"  Viracocha,"  he  said,  as  he  offered  his  hand,  scruti 
nizing  the  cavalier's  face.  "  I  owe  thee  my  life.  My  Lord 
Mocho,  tell  me  whom  I  am  to  thank." 

"  The  Viracocha  Cristoval,  Sapa  Inca,"  replied  Mocho, 
"  to  whom  Tavantinsuyu  is  —  " 

He  stopped.  The  Inca  had  dropped  Cristoval's  hand 
as  if  stung,  his  face  suddenly  darkening  with  enmity. 
Cristoval  stiffened,  and  his  face  slowly  reddened  at  the 


340  THE    CRIMSON    CONQUEST 

affront.  There  was  a  flash  in  his  eyes  as  they  met  the 
frown,  and  he  formally  saluted,  saying :  — 

"  The  Inca  Manco  oweth  me  nothing." 

Manco  turned  away  abruptly.  Remembered  his  obli 
gation,  and  again  faced  the  cavalier,  as  he  said,  without 
gratitude  and  with  an  effort  plainly  visible :  "  You  have 
saved  my  life,  Viracocha.  My  Lord  Mocho,  see  that  he 
and  his  companion  are  suitably  rewarded.  Assemble  thy 
men." 

He  moved  away  burdened  by  a  debt  heavier  upon  his 
proud  heart  than  all  the  insults  borne  at  Viracocha  hands ; 
haunted  by  the  crucifix  seen  on  Rava's  bosom  —  placed 
there  by  the  one  for  whose  death  he  had  given  fervent 
thanks  to  Inti  a  hundred  times:  by  the  hand  which  had 
now  saved  him  from  the  sword  of  one  whom  he  hated  less. 
Black  thoughts,  with  blacker  ones  beneath:  his  liberty 
a  loathed  thing!  He  pushed  on  alone,  far  in  advance  of 
the  column  which  Mocho  was  hurriedly  forming. 

Cristoval  glanced  after  him,  watched  the  Antis  gather 
ing  up  Mendoza,  who  was  groaning  feebly ;  saw  the  other 
Spaniard  secured,  and  as  the  column  moved  off,  turned  to 
Pedro  who  was  regarding  him  with  inquiry. 

"  By  the  saints,  Pedro,  I  have  little  taste  for  such  a 
host.  I  misdoubt  our  welcome.  However,"  he  added, 
after  a  moment's  gloomy  thought,  "  I  see  no  help  for  it." 
He  recovered  his  lance,  which  he  had  dropped  to  catch 
up  his  mace,  mounted,  and  they  rode  after  the  column. 

Mocho  joined  them  at  the  first  halt.  His  manner  be 
trayed  his  uneasiness  at  the  reception  accorded  the  two 
Spaniards  by  his  master,  and  he  hastened  to  say :  "  The 
Inca  is  not  yet  aware  of  all  his  indebtedness,  Viracochas ; 
but  I  will  make  him  so.  You  will  not  find  him  ungrateful.'' 
Cristoval  inclined  his  head  gravely,  presently  asking  how 
the  monarch  had  effected  his  release. 

"  By  ruse,"  answered  Mocho.     "  He  confided  to  the 


,  AN    ENCOUNTER    ON    THE    PLAIN      341 

new  commander  of  the  Viracochas,  Hernando  Pizarro, 
that  there  is  treasure  concealed  near  Yucay,  and  was  freed 
to  guide  the  two  soldiers  to  the  hiding-place." 

"Aha!"  said  Cristoval.  "Hernando  back!  Well, 
his  greed  hath  overreached.  What  is  in  store  for 
the  Viracochas  who  came  with  the  Inca?  —  death,  no 
doubt?" 

"  They  will  be  left  at  Chinchero  to  make  their  way 
back  to  Cuzco  as  soon  as  the  injured  one  is  able  to  walk," 
replied  Mocho.  Cristoval  was  surprised,  but  made  no 
comment. 

It  was  near  midnight  when  Urubamba  was  reached, 
and  having  despatched  heralds  to  announce  the  Inca,  the 
command  moved  on  to  Yucay.  The  palace  occupied  a 
rocky  shelf  far  above  the  valley.  It  was  approached  by 
a  road  which  wound  upward  from  terrace  to  terrace  through 
an  immense  park,  and  after  a  tedious  ascent  the  great 
rambling  group  of  buildings  rose  at  the  head  of  the  avenue. 
In  a  brightly  lighted  court  large  enough  for  a  regiment 
the  escort  halted,  and  the  Inca  passed  between  prostrate 
menials  to  his  apartments,  accompanied  by  Mocho.  On 
the  latter's  return  the  two  Spaniards  were  led  to  quarters 
in  a  distant  part  of  the  building,  followed  by  a  corps  of 
servants. 

Their  apartment  consisted  of  a  large  salon  with 
sleeping-rooms  adjoining.  It  was  already  alight.  Mocho 
was  depressed,  but  took  leave  with  cordiality,  promising  to 
join  them  early  the  following  day.  A  few  minutes  later 
refreshments  were  brought.  As  they  were  about  to  sit 
Pedro  inquired, 

"  Canst  feed  thyself,  Cristoval?  " 

"  Assuredly !  "  replied  Cristoval,  with  mild  surprise. 
"Why  not?" 

"  So  can  I,"  said  Pedro.  "  Canst  get  to  bed  without 
assistance?" 


342  THE    CRIMSON    CONQUEST 

"Nonsense,  Pedro!  What  dost  think?  —  that  I  may 
drink  too  much  ?  " 

"  Then  in  the  name  of  a  saint,  dismiss  these  servants ! 
It  neither  aideth  me  to  eat  to  have  twelve  men  observing 
me  how  I  do  it,  nor  my  digestion  afterwards.  Tell  them 
to  go.  They  need  rest."  Cristoval  smiled,  indicated  to 
the  attendants  that  they  were  no  longer  needed,  and  Pedro 
sat  with  evident  relief.  "  That,"  he  observed,  "  is  one  of 
the  reasons  why  I  would  not  be  a  king.  But  now  we  can 
eat  in  comfort  and  spontaneously  as  becometh  hungry 
men,  notwithstanding  the  iciness  of  His  Majesty.  Hast 
guessed  at  the  cause  of  that,  Cristoval  ?  " 

"  I  Ve  guessed  in  a  hundred  guesses,  but  can  make 
naught  of  it.  He  looked  not  unfriendly  until  he  heard 
my  name.  It  may  be  that  Pizarro  hath  smirched  it  with 
evil  report.  The  name  liked  him  not,  't  is  certain,  and 
we  may  cast  about  for  the  reason.  Let  it  go.  But  now, 
Pedro,  he  is  free,  and  that  meaneth  war  against  Pizarro. 
Thou  knowest  my  purpose  to  offer  my  sword." 

Pedro  nodded. 

"  It  may  be,"  continued  Cristoval,   "  this   enmity  of 
the  Inca  will  deny  me  privilege,  though  I  scarce  can  think 
it.    If  not,  I  will  fight  with  Mocho,  and  in  that  event,  old 
friend,  we  are  near  to  parting." 
^  "  Ah !  "  said  Pedro,  without  looking  up. 

"  Thy  friendship,"  Cristoval  went  on,  "  hath  dragged 
thee  into  rough  places  and  more  dangers  than  one.  Mine 
for  thee  is  the  only  return  I  have  been  able  to  make.  It 
hath  profited  thee  little,  but  I  swear  to  thee,  Pedro,  it  is 
warmer  than  I  ever  felt  for  any  other  man,  and  it  will 
go  sorely  to  part,  amigo"  Cristoval  extended  his  hand 
over  the  table.  Pedro  gave  it  a  wrench,  and  starting  to 
his  feet,  pegged  rapidly  across  the  room  and  back.  He 
halted  before  Cristoval  with  face  slightly  flushed,  and 
surveyed  him  sternly. 


AN   ENCOUNTER   ON   THE   PLAIN      343 

"  Cristoval,"  he  growled,  "  sometimes  thou  growest 
wearisome.  Curse  it,  dost  think  my  friendship  hath  gone 
halt,  like  myself?  Hath  it  travelled  so  far  and  now  can 
go  no  farther?  Who  hath  said  so?  " 

"  Nay !  God  forbid  that  I  should  think  it,"  said  Cris 
toval,  rising.  "  But  look  thou,  Pedro,  this  will  be  war, 
and  against  countrymen.  Thou  hast  no  quarrel." 

"No?"  returned  Pedro,  remembering  again  his 
crushed  thumbs  and  ravaged  chests.  "  But  mayhap  I 
have.  If  not,  then  one  shall  not  be  long  wanting." 

What  further  protest  Cristoval  would  have  made  was 
interrupted  by  a  rap  on  the  door,  and  he  opened  it  to 
Mocho.  The  general  was  disturbed  and  said  quickly,  "  My 
friend  Cristoval,  the  Inca  would  see  thee  immediately." 

"What!"  exclaimed  the  cavalier.  "Doth  he  not 
sleep?  It  is  near  the  morning." 

"  He  hath  not  slept,"  said  Mocho. 

Cristoval  threw  his  cloak  over  his  shoulders  and  fol 
lowed  him  out. 


CHAPTER  XXXI 

Inca  and  Conquistador 

THE  Inca  Manco  did  not  sleep.  His  attendants 
dismissed,  he  found  himself  alone  with  torturing 
thoughts.  Lashed,  stung,  and  seared  by  the 
recollection  of  a  thousand  Spanish  outrages,  of 
the  humiliations  during  his  imprisonment,  his  mind  seethed 
with  purpose  of  vengeance,  with  plans  of  action,  and  im 
patience  for  their  execution.  Most  merciless  of  all  was  the 
thought  that  beneath  his  very  roof  were  sheltered  two 
of  the  hated  aliens,  harbored  through  the  demands  of  a 
gratitude  which  he  could  not  feel.  And  one  of  them  (the 
one  who  had  seduced  Rava  from  her  faith  in  the  ancient 
gods,  whom  he  had  seen  her  mourning  with  he  knew  not 
—  O,  Inti!  —  what  secret  cause  of  grief,  and  whom  he 
would  have  gladly  given  to  death)  had  imposed  upon  him 
the  final  obligation  1  The  sense  of  it  bit  to  his  proud  soul 
like  the  thrust  of  a  javelin.  He  would  have  seen  this 
Viracocha  hurled  from  a  precipice  as  he  would  a  common 
criminal,  but  the  debt  was  there,  burdening  his  heart  like 
a  monstrous  incubus.  He  strode  about,  clutching  his  head, 
now  resolved  to  issue  a  fell  command,  now  restrained  by 
the  stern  injunction  of  honor.  The  Viracocha  was  his 
guest ;  had,  moreover,  said  Mocho,  been  zealous  for  storm 
ing  the  Sachsahuaman ;  had  served  Tavantinsuyu  in  other 
ways,  and  professed  a  wish  to  serve  still  further.  With 
what  motive,  this  allegiance?  Ah!  what  motive  could  a 
Viracocha  have  but  one?  —  the  hope  of  gold!  He  was 


345 

merely  more  astute  than  his  fellows,  and  of  deeper  cun 
ning  ;  but  the  incentive  was,  could  be  nothing  else.  Then 
this  debt  could  be  acquitted !  —  should  be  acquitted  that 
very  hour!  The  Viracocha  should  have  his  gold  and  be 
gone.  At  once!  Before  the  sun  should  find  him  beneath 
the  roofs  of  Yucay! 

Manco  hastened  to  the  door.  He  threw  it  open,  re 
strained  the  sentinels  with  impatience  from  their  obei 
sance,  and  sent  one  in  hot  haste  for  Mocho.  The  general 
was  soon  in  the  royal  chamber.  Manco  stood  in  the  mid 
dle  of  the  floor,  hot-eyed  and  scowling. 

"  Fetch  the  Viracocha !  "  he  cried,  impetuously,  as 
Mocho  appeared.  "  Hasten  —  the  one  called  Cristoval  — 
and  —  I  will  see  him  alone,  Mocho." 

Mocho  hurried  away,  wondering  and  disturbed.  The 
Inca  saw  the  door  closed,  and  became  active.  On  his  table 
was  his  untouched  supper,  served  on  plates  and  salvers 
of  massive  gold.  He  seized  them,  opened  an  outer  door, 
flung  out  their  contents,  and  stacked  the  utensils  in  a 
glowing  heap.  In  an  adjoining  room  were  toilet  articles 
of  precious  weight.  They  were  piled  beside  the  table  ser 
vice.  From  the  niches  in  the  walls  he  snatched  the  vases, 
hurled  out  the  plants  and  soil,  and  bore  them,  an  armful 
of  wealth,  to  the  stack  on  the  table.  From  a  chest  he 
tossed  out  a  fortune  in  jewelled  armlets,  wristlets,  and 
girdles.  From  the  walls  he  tore  their  decorations,  bending 
and  crushing  them  into  shapelessness. 

He  worked  eagerly,  casting  the  articles  upon  the  heap 
with  scorn  for  the  object  for  which  they  were  being  col 
lected,  and  hating  them  for  their  worth  to  his  enemies. 
As  he  deposited  the  last  he  heard  steps,  and  turned  to  face 
the  unwelcome  guest.  Cristoval  was  ushered  in  by  Mocho, 
who  retired  at  once,  closing  the  door.  The  cavalier 
saluted,  observing  the  half-suppressed  agitation  on  the 
Inca's  face.  The  monarch  made  slight  acknowledgment, 


346  THE    CRIMSON    CONQUEST 

noting  quickly  that  he  wore  the  native  costume.  Manco 
stood  beside  the  treasure,  darkly  watchful  for  the  Span 
iard's  expression  at  sight  of  the  gold.  Cristoval  glanced 
at  the  pile  as  he  entered,  but  gave  it  no  further  look, 
regarding  Manco  with  calm  attentiveness.  Unexpectedly 
the  latter  found  it  not  easy  to  begin.  There  was  a 
dignity  in  the  bearing  of  this  Viracocha  which  forbade 
the  tender  of  the  treasure  and  abrupt  dismissal  ready  to 
his  tongue  a  second  before.  The  silence  had  become  oner 
ous  when  he  said  at  last :  — 

"  Viracocha,  I  have  summoned  you  to  say  once  more 
that  I  am  in  your  debt.  Lord  Mocho  hath  told  me  all  he 
knoweth.  I  am  aware  of  your  service  to  —  to  one  of  my 
kin.  Yesterday  you  added  further  to  my  obligation,  and 
I  desire  to  discharge  it  immediately,  and  if  possible,  to 
your  satisfaction." 

The  bitterness  in  the  words  and  the  curl  of  lip  did  not 
escape  the  cavalier,  who  replied,  coldly :  "  Lord  Inca,  there 
existeth  no  obligation  to  be  discharged.  You  will  pardon 
my  denial  that  any  act  of  mine  hath  imposed  a  debt  upon 
the  Inca  Manco." 

The  Inca  made  no  pretence  of  concealing  the  disdain 
with  which  he  received  the  answer  and  waved  it  aside. 
Stepping  back  from  the  table,  he  pointed  at  the  pile  of 
gold  and  said  brusquely,  "  Take  it !  " 

But  the  execrable  lighting  of  the  Spaniard's  face  for 
which  he  looked,  and  had  seen  so  often  on  those  of  Pizarro 
and  his  companions,  was  absent.  Cristoval  ignored  the 
treasure,  but  the  color  flashed  into  his  face  in  resentment 
of  Manco's  tone  and  manner.  "  Your  gold  hath  no  worth 
to  me,  my  Lord  Inca,"  he  said,  with  slow  emphasis.  "  I 
ask  no  favor  but  your  authority  to  pass,  to-night,  the 
guards  about  the  palace." 

"  Do  you  reject  it?  "  demanded  Manco,  with  a  frown. 

"  I  beg  my  Lord  Inca's  gracious  leave  to  decline  it." 


INCA    AND    CONQUISTADOR  347 

"  It  is  not  enough !  "  exclaimed  Manco,  with  contempt. 
"  Then  I  will  increase  it." 

"  I  fear  my  lord  doth  not  get  my  meaning,"  replied 
Cristoval,  with  an  even  voice  that  would  have  cautioned 
one  acquainted  with  its  significance.  "  I  repeat,  the  gold 
is  of  no  use  to  me." 

Manco's  frown  darkened.  "  Then  what  will  you, 
Viracocha?"  he  cried,  impatiently.  "Name  it!  It  shall 
be  yours.  If  this  gold  is  not  enough,  I  will  load  your 
beast  with  all  he  can  bear  away.  But  let  me  acquit  this 
debt  before  the  sun  riseth  upon  it  again." 

The  scorn  was  now  Cristoval's.  It  burned  in  his 
steady  eyes  as  he  replied  quietly :  "  I  fear,  my  lord,  that 
you  will  compel  me  to  speak  plainly,  and  I  would  not. 
If  I  have  been  of  service,  I  beg  you  will  believe  that  I 
should  feel  it  depreciated  by  the  acceptance  of  reward. 
It  should  be  unnecessary  for  me  to  say  more  to  a  soldier, 
my  Lord  Inca." 

Manco  scarcely  heeded  his  words.  In  his  impatience 
to  be  done  their  sense  was  quite  lost.  His  experience  with 
the  sordid  and  greedy  Spaniards  made  it  impossible  for 
him  to  believe  this  one  less  so.  He  rejoined  hotly :  "  You 
saved  my  life,  Viracocha!  Why?  " 

Cristoval  answered  with  patience.  "  I  was  unaware 
that  it  was  you,  my  lord.  It  calleth  not  even  for  your 
thanks." 

Manco  flushed,  but  went  on.  "  You  were  about  to  take 
part  in  an  undertaking  to  release  me  from  prison.  Again, 
why?  Lord  Mocho  hath  said  that  you  would  offer  your 
sword  to  Tavantinsuyu.  Why,  Viracocha?  Is  it  without 
hope  of  reward,  all  this?  Are  you  of  so  different  fibre 
from  the  plunderers  of  Cuzco?"  He  turned  away  with 
a  gesture  of  contemptuous  disbelief. 

Cristoval  eyed  him  in  silence,  struggling  to  restrain 
his  anger  at  the  imputation  of  venality.  When  he 


348  THE    CRIMSON    CONQUEST 

spoke  the  Inca  faced  him  again,  and  met  a  look  grown 
intense. 

"  Lord  Inca  Manco,"  said  the  cavalier,  "  you  have 
questioned  my  motives.  It  is  not  my  wont  to  defend  them 
—  with  words;  nor  will  I  defend  them  now  further  than 
to  say  that  it  was  my  purpose  to  offer  my  sword  without 
thought  of  reward,  and  less  to  aid  you  and  your  cause,  just 
though  it  is,  than  to  rescue  one  whom  you  hold  dear  — 
the  Nusta  Rava." 

At  the  name  the  Inca's  face  grew  livid.  "  Ah !  "  he 
exclaimed,  his  voice  lowered  and  husky  with  passion. 
"  One  whom  I  hold  dear !  One  whom  I  held  dear  above 
all  on  earth  until  she  came  to  me  defiled  by  your  accursed 
love,  broken-hearted,  wearing  the  symbol  of  your  dam 
nable  belief!" 

His  rage  was  not  more  quick  than  that  of  Cristoval, 
but  the  latter's  years  gave  him  better  self-control.  The 
cavalier,  pausing  to  hold  himself,  replied :  "  Defiled,  my 
Lord  Inca!  'Tis  a  black  and  shameful  word,  applied  to 
the  Nusta  Rava,  and  by  the  great  Heaven,  the  man  with 
whom  I  could  fight  on  equal  footing  should  not  leave  this 
room  alive  with  the  word  unswallowed !  " 

The  Inca  snatched  the  llautu  from  his  head  and  cast 
it  aside.  He  went  out,  returning  instantly  with  a  pair  of 
the  short  native  swords.  He  thrust  the  hilts  toward  the 
cavalier. 

"  Choose !  "  he  cried,  hoarsely. 

Cristoval's  eyes  blazed,  and  he  stretched  out  his 
hand  to  seize  the  weapon.  Arrested  the  motion,  and 
drawing  back,  stood  surveying  the  maddened  youth 
in  silence.  Fight  this  prince,  already  laden  with  un 
numbered  cares,  the  victim  of  inconceivable  wrongs, 
and  on  the  eve  of  leading  a  life-and-death  struggle  to 
save  his  people?  Turn  a  sword  upon  the  brother  of 
Rava? 


INCA   AND   CONQUISTADOR  349 

"  Choose !  "  commanded  Manco,  passionately  "  Doth 
the  Viracocha  hesitate?" 

Cristoval  grasped  a  sword,  and  as  the  Inca  stepped 
back  to  guard,  threw  it  upon  the  table.  "  My  lord,"  he 
said,  "  I  have  no  mind  to  fight." 

Manco's  surprise  gave  way  to  quick  access  of  anger. 
"  What  mean  you,  Viracocha?  "  he  demanded,  hotly.  "  Is 
this  some  new  form  of  insult?  " 

"  God  forbid!  "  said  Cristoval. 

For  a  moment  the  monarch  glared  at  him,  speechless 
with  rage  and  uncertainty.  "  Do  I  look  upon  a  coward?  " 
he  asked,  slowly,  the  scorn  deepening  in  his  eyes. 

Cristoval  knew  that  the  stigma  must  follow  his  re 
fusal,  yet  he  started  and  reddened  at  the  word.  "  A 
coward !  No,  my  Lord  Inca,  not  that !  "  he  replied,  meet 
ing  steadily  the  look  of  contempt  and  enmity.  "  Not  a 
coward;  and  I  believe  you  cannot  think  it."  During  a 
fraction  of  a  second  he  felt  the  penetrating  gaze  which 
might  have  been  Rava's.  It  passed,  and  Manco's  brow 
darkened  again.  He  was  about  to  speak,  but  Cristoval 
raised  his  hand.  "  Lord  Inca  Manco,"  he  said,  gravely, 
"  we  have  no  quarrel.  I  divined  but  now  the  nature  of 
what  you  hold  as  grievance.  I  call  upon  Heaven  to  witness 
that  the  Nusta  Rava  hath  had  from  me  naught  but  honor 
in  mine  every  thought." 

"  Honor ! "  repeated  Manco,  with  renewed  scorn. 
"  Honor  in  a  Viracocha?  " 

"  Nay,  my  lord !  You  have  heard  me  say  that  I  will 
not  fight,"  returned  the  cavalier.  Manco  colored  under  the 
reproof,  and  Cristoval  went  on,  "  There  is  honor  even 
among  Viracochas,  and  something  more  than  lust  of  gold, 
God  knoweth !  "  He  paused  again.  "  You  spoke  of  the 
symbol  the  Nusta  Rava  wore.  I  tell  you,  Prince,  that  if 
you  come  not  to  the  faith,  it  betokeneth  you  will  go  upon 
your  bended  knees  on  the  hot  pavement  of  hell  and  give 


350  THE    CRIMSON   CONQUEST 

up  thanks  that  your  sister  hath  been  spared  your  fate ! " 
Then,  with  a  gesture :  "  But  I  say  once  more,  Lord  Inca, 
we  have  no  quarrel.  We  have  a  common  enemy." 

Again  Manco's  searching  look,  but  he  was  silent, 
studying  the  man  before  him.  Here,  assuredly,  was  a 
Viracocha  who  differed  from  his  kind.  He  had  neither 
swaggered  nor  sneered.  He  spoke  with  a  dignity  and 
candor  that  forced  respect.  In  his  bearing  was  a  calm 
pride  and  consciousness  of  strength  which  had  baffled  the 
unconcealed  hate  and  bitterness  with  which  he  had  been 
received.  The  frank  honesty  of  his  eyes  had  lent  support 
to  his  words.  Manco's  youth  had  not  given  him  a  knowl 
edge  of  men,  and  least  of  all  could  he  fathom  a  Spaniard ; 
but  his  own  ingenuous  temperament,  shamefully  as  it  .had 
been  abused,  made  him  quick  in  an  intuition  that  he  had 
misjudged.  But  this  was  in  his  thoughts  as  an  under 
current.  Before  him  still  was  a  Viracocha.  He  tossed  his 
sword  beside  its  fellow,  and  demanded :  — 

"Why  are  you  here?  Of  what  concern  to  you  is  the 
rescue  of  the  Nusta  Rava?  " 

Candidly  Cristoval  faced  the  rights  of  a  brother.  "  Of 
deep  concern,  my  lord.  So  deep  that  I  overlook  the  man 
ner  of  your  questions  and  answer  them,"  he  replied, 
bluntly.  "  So  deep  that  I  have  proffered  my  service,  my 
life,  if  need  be,  to  Tavantinsuyu  in  her  behalf." 

Hostility  returned  to  Manco's  eyes.  He  surveyed  the 
cavalier  for  a  moment  before  replying  coldly,  "  The  Nusta 
Rava  is  the  daughter  of  an  Inca,  Viracocha." 

"  I  am  a  caballero  of  Spain,  my  Lord  Inca." 

In  silence  contended  the  pride  of  two  races.  On  the 
one  hand,  an  autocrat  absolute,  master  of  an  empire,  ruler 
of  multitudes  —  but  an  Indian.  On  the  other,  a  soldier, 
an  adventurer,  but  a  Caucasian  —  a  Conquistador.  Upon 
the  monarch,  unseen,  unfelt,  fell  the  shadow  of  Destiny. 

There  was  no  wavering  in  the  eyes  of  either.    In  the 


INCA   AND    CONQUISTADOR  351 

stern,  self-possessed  cavalier  the  Inca  saw  and  was  com 
pelled  to  acknowledge,  an  indefinable  superiority  which 
eluded  him  —  the  genius  of  a  breed  of  subjugators. 
Withal,  there  was  no  arrogance  in  this  Spaniard's  face; 
only  the  grave  serenity  of  a  lofty  mind,  a  strength  of  spirit 
which  rose  above  the  distinction  of  the  temporal  rank  of 
the  Peruvian  and  all  his  might.  On  his  own  part,  Cris- 
toval  beheld  a  kingliness  ingrained:  a  majesty  as  natural 
as  the  air  that  Manco  breathed. 

Cristoval  broke  the  pause.  "  My  Lord  Inca,  I  re 
quested,  a  moment  ago,  your  gracious  leave  to  pass  the 
guards." 

Manco  seemed  not  to  have  heard,  but  stood  in  gloomy 
meditation.  Cristoval  was  about  to  speak  again  when  the 
Inca  replied  with  abruptness,  "  It  is  my  will,  Viracocha, 
that  you  remain  within  the  palace." 

Cristoval  bowed,  and  again  encountered  the  look  of 
profound  scrutiny.  Manco  inclined  his  head,  and  the 
cavalier  withdrew. 


CHAPTER   XXXII 
The  Storm  Breaks 

PEDRO  was  asleep  in  his  chair,  but  roused  when 
Cristoval  laid  a  hand  upon  his  shoulder. 
"  Old     friend,"     said    the    latter,     "  we     are 
prisoners." 

Pedro  sat  up,  regarding  his  companion  with  incredu 
lity.  "  Prisoners  again,  sayst  thou,  Cristoval?  " 

"  Prisoners !  I  asked  the  Inca's  leave  to  quit  the 
palace  at  once,  and  was  denied." 

"At  once!  To-night?"  demanded  Pedro.  "Well, 
then  stew  me  if  I  'm  not  glad  thou  wast  denied !  Here 
is  our  supper,  scarce  touched.  Here  are  two  beds,  im 
maculate.  Cristoval,  thou  'rt  rash,  hot-headed,  and  too 
impetuous  by  far!  Now  what  if  the  Inca  had  given  thee 
thy  leave?  " 

"  We  should  have  taken  it  and  gone,"  replied  Cris 
toval. 

"  Como  asi  I  Just  so,"  said  the  cook,  in  a  tone  of  re 
proach.  "  We  should  have  taken  it  and  gone  —  supper- 
less,  bedless,,  two  wanderers  by  night.  As  for  being 
prisoners,  the  news  would  have  kept  until  morning,  and  I 
for  one,  would  have  slept  none  the  worse." 

Cristoval  regarded  him  moodily.  "  Gods,  but  thou 
hast  philosophy,  for  a  captive  cook !  " 

"  Philosophy!  "  retorted  Pedro;  "  't  is  common  sense. 
But  come !  Let  us  fall  to,  and  thou  tell  me  whilst  we  eat." 

They  fell  to,  and  Cristoval  recounted  the  interview. 
At  its  close  Pedro  remarked  comfortingly :  "  Well,  if  this 


THE   STORM    BREAKS  353 

is  durance,  Cristoval,  I  've  experienced  worse,  and  so  hast 
thou.  Which  bed  wilt  have?  They  're  alike.  Shall  we 
toss  for  it?  I  have  a  maravedi" 

"  Madre  I  Thou  'rt  a  cheerful  cook,"  returned  Cris 
toval,  glumly. 

They  tossed  for  beds,  sought  them  presently,  and 
while  Cristoval  lay  restless  and  pondering,  Pedro's  peace 
ful  snore  resounded  through  the  halls  of  the  Incas. 

The  cavalier  was  awakened  next  morning  by  the  voice 
of  Pedro  in  the  outer  room,  addressing  an  attendant  and 
apparently  amending  his  salutation  into  Christian  terms. 

"  Say,  rather,  '  May  the  Virgin  guard  you  '  ;  or,  more 
briefly,  ' Dominus  wok f scum-'  Either  is  good,  and  the  sooner 
thou  learnest  them  the  better  for  thy  soul.  Is  that  our 
breakfast?  Art  sure?  Hast  not  strayed  into  the  wrong 
room?  Hum !  Well,  it  hath  little  of  the  look  of  the  prison 
fare  I  've  —  heard  tell  of,  for  a  surety !  Pleased  with  it, 
boy !  Why,  I  'm  pleased  from  crop  to  tail-feathers,  and 
that 's  clear  through !  A  mere  saying,  my  lad.  Heed  it 
not.  Ah!  My  leg?  It  hath  thine  admiration?  In  my 
country  't  is  worn  as  a  mark  of  transcendent  virtue.  Few 
attain  it.  That  will  do.  Just  leave  the  door  open  when 
thou  goest  out." 

Presently  Cristoval  heard  a  low  whistle  of  surprise, 
and  Pedro  stumped  hurriedly  to  his  door.  "  Cristoval ! " 
whispered  the  cook,  "  Cristoval !  He  did  it !  " 

"He  did  what?"  demanded  Cristoval. 

"  Left  the  door  open,  or  I  'm  a  scullion !  Stir  thy 
self!" 

The  cavalier  stepped  out.  The  door  was  broad  open, 
admitting  sunlight,  perfume,  and  the  sound  of  the  foun 
tain  in  the  court.  "  Move,  man,  and  we  're  free ! "  ex 
claimed  Pedro,  urgently.  "There  is  not  a  soul  in  the 
patio." 

"Useless,  Pedro!"  said  Cristoval,  turning  away. 

23 


354  THE   CRIMSON    CONQUEST 

"The  place  is  surrounded  by  guards,  and  the  valley  full 
of  troops.  We  should  not  stir  five  hundred  yards." 

"  Oh,  the  fiend !  We  can  try.  'T  is  a  flaunt  in  the 
face  of  Providence  not  to  try !  "  He  looked  stealthily  into 
the  court  and  drew  back  with  an  exclamation.  "  Here 
cometh  Mocho!  Shall  I  throttle  him?" 

"No!"  thundered  Cristoval. 

Pedro  shrugged.  "  Amiga,  thou  'rt  an  ass !  —  with 
asinine  propensities  for  thorns  and  thistles."  He  pegged 
across  the  room  and  seated  himself  with  some  violence, 
muttering,  "  This  is  what  cometh  of  being  a  cook."  , 

Mocho  entered.  "  My  friends,"  said  he  hastily,  after 
their  greetings,  "  we  move  in  an  hour  toward  Cuzco.  The 
Inca  hath  gone  to  Ollantaytambo  with  Quehuar  and 
Yumaquilque,  who  came  this  morning.  The  Antis  are  on 
the  march." 

"We,  my  Lord  Mocho!"  said  Cristoval.  "We  — 
Pedro  and  myself  —  are  prisoners.  The  Inca  refused 
liberty  to  leave  the  palace." 

Mocho  shook  his  head  with  a  smile.  "  No,  Viracocha 
Cristoval.  There  was  a  council  at  dawn  when  the  generals 
arrived,  and  the  Inca  hath  accepted  your  service.  In  truth, 
you  were  not  prisoners.  The  Inca  could  not  so  soon 
forget." 

Within  the  hour  the  two  Spaniards  were  leading  down 
through  the  park  to  the  valley  with  Mocho,  and  the  latter 
said,  "  Viracocha  Cristoval,  the  Antis  are  to  take  the 
Sachsahuaman." 

Cristoval  nodded.  "  Count  us  with  them,  Lord 
Mocho,"  he  said  briefly. 

A  few  days  later  a  foraging  party  of  Spanish  pikemen 
and  Canares  leaving  Cuzco  by  the  Cuntisuyu  road  at  dawn 
found  its  way  opposed  outside  the  suburb  of  Chaquill- 
Chaca  by  a  body  of  Peruvian  archers.  The  sergeant  in  com 
mand  halted  in  astonishment,  then  with  an  imprecation 


355 

ordered  his  men  forward  to  cut  a  way  through.  Before 
half-a-dozen  paces  had  been  covered  a  flurry  of  arrows 
whizzed  into  their  ranks.  The  sergeant  ordered  a  charge, 
met  at  quarter  bow-shot  by  a  volley,  and  the  head  of  his 
detail  melted.  Another  discharge,  and  the  foragers  reeled, 
broke,  and  stampeded  toward  the  city.  They  dashed 
through  the  dim  streets  crying  the  alarm  and  reached  the 
square  just  as  the  garrison  of  the  Sachsahuaman  rushed 
into  it  from  the  north  in  wild  disorder.  The  fortress  had 
been  surprised  by  an  overwhelming  force,  and  the  Span 
iards  had  fled  without  a  blow.  A  few  minutes  later  half 
a  score  of  wounded  straggled  in,  some  borne  by  comrades. 
A  number  had  been  left  within  the  fortification,  dead  or 
captive,  and  others  had  dropped  along  the  road.  Now, 
from  the  suburbs  on  the  west  and  south  came  the  distant 
howling  of  the  Canares.  A  soldier  burst  into  the  sleeping- 
room  of  Hernando  Pizarro,  admitting  with  him  a  confu 
sion  of  shouts  from  the  square  and  the  blare  of  trumpets 
sounding  to  arms. 

"  We  are  attacked !  "  cried  the  soldier.  "  The  fortress 
hath  fallen,  and  the  city  is  surrounded." 

Hernando  was  out  of  bed  at  a  bound.  As  he  rushed 
out  half-dressed,  a  horde  of  retreating  Canares  swarmed 
into  the  square,  some  wounded,  some  naked,  many  un 
armed,  and  all  in  panic,  their  savage  clamor  drowning  the 
shouts  of  the  Spanish  officers  struggling  to  form  the  com 
panies.  For  a  space  it  was  a  scene  of  madness.  The 
Canares,  part  terror-stricken  by  the  suddenness  of  the 
attack,  part  infuriated  by  wounds  and  the  sight  of  blood, 
whirled  in  the  square  like  wild  cattle,  breaking  the  form 
ing  lines  of  the  infantry,  struck  at  by  angry  pikemen, 
fighting  back,  and  howling.  In  a  moment  began  a  sput 
tering  zip  of  arrows  from  outside,  with  here  and  there  an 
answering  shriek  and  plunge  of  some  man  hit,  and  the  con 
fusion  rose  to  pandemonium.  The  sputtering  increased; 


356  THE    CRIMSON    CONQUEST 

became  a  steady  rain  of  missiles  searching  every  yard  of 
the  place,  their  flight  invisible  in  the  twilight,  making 
the  vicious  whir,  or  sharp,  angry  snap  as  they  glanced 
on  the  pavement  or  from  the  walls,  the  more  sinister.  The 
Cafiares  broke  for  shelter  in  the  halls  of  the  palace  of 
Viracocha,  followed  by  the  infantry  and  Candia's  men 
dragging  their  guns.  Here  the  lines  were  hastily  reformed. 
A  few  cavaliers  were  in  the  court,  already  mounted;  but 
a  few  only,  for  Juan  Pizarro  had  gone,  three  days  before, 
with  almost  the  entire  strength  of  the  horse  in  a  fruitless 
pursuit  of  the  Inca  Manco,  whose  rescue  had  been  reported 
by  the  battered  Mendoza  and  his  companion. 

Hernando  had  gotten  into  armor  in  some  fashion,  and 
was  now  in  the  saddle,  adjusting  his  helmet  while  he 
bellowed  commands.  His  handful  of  cavalry  clattered 
after  him  into  the  hail-swept  square.  The  infantry,  not 
two  hundred  of  them  in  all,  closed  in  behind.  No  hesi 
tancy  here,  but  grim  resolution  to  fight  whatever  odds 
they  might  find;  an  unreserved,  deadly  willingness  to 
fight,  though  the  legions  of  all  heathendom  were  arrayed 
against  them. 

For  an  hour  the  plaza  roared,  thundered,  and  trem 
bled;  was  finally  cleared.  The  warriors  of  the  Inca  had 
fought  with  courage  almost  superhuman,  but  had  been  met 
with  steel,  by  the  crushing  weight  of  cavalry,  by  the  fire 
and  havoc  of  guns.  They  retreated  to  the  streets,  and  the 
streets  were  swept  by  falconet  and  arquebus.  They  were 
driven  to  the  suburbs  —  and  the  attack  had  failed. 

But  gloom,  almost  despair,  was  with  the  victors.  To 
ward  night,  as  the  city  grew  quiet,  Hernando  summoned 
his  officers  in  council  in  the  square.  They  gathered  about 
him,  wounded,  exhausted,  and  filthy  with  carnage,  scowling 
sullenly  beneath  their  lifted  visors,  morose  and  taciturn. 
The  little  said  was  scarcely  heeded,  their  sombre  glances 
turning  to  the  grim  walls  of  the  Sachsahuaman,  or  to  the 


THE    STORM    BREAKS  357 

hills  around  the  city,  now  dark  with  the  legions  of  the 
Inca.  Hernando  heard  the  reports  of  the  wounded  and 
dead,  made  no  comment,  and  the  council  grew  dumb. 
The  storm  had  broken  with  such  fury,  with  unexpected 
ness  so  entire,  and  its  apparent  magnitude  was  so  great, 
that  hearts  before  unknown  to  fear  were  filled  with  dread. 
The  minds  of  the  counsellors  were  stunned.  The  few 
words  ventured  by  one  or  another  were  flat  in  their  in 
adequacy,  and  were  answered  by  silence.  Hernando  at 
last  forced  some  phrases  of  encouragement,  issued 
instructions  for  the  disposition  of  what  force  there  was, 
and  the  council  gradually  dissolved  without  words  of 
dismissal. 

Cuzco  was  invested.  To  oppose  the  thousands  Her 
nando  had  only  his  infantry,  a  battery  short  of  ammuni 
tion,  with  a  thousand  or  more  Canares  whom  nothing 
could  induce  to  go  into  action  that  day,  and  whose  fidelity 
in  the  emergency  was  doubtful.  Of  the  infantry,  only  the 
arquebusiers  had  signal  superiority  over  the  foe,  and  these 
were  few,  their  powder  limited.  What  fate  had  befallen 
Juan  Pizarro  and  his  troopers  he  feared  to  guess. 
Whether  they  should  be  able  to  make  their  way  back  to 
the  city  was  a  conjecture  which  gave  little  cheer. 

As  evening  came  on  patrols  were  kept  moving  through 
the  deserted  streets,  saluted  with  an  occasional  flight  of 
arrows  when  they  approached  the  suburbs,  but  there 
seemed  no  disposition  on  the  part  of  the  Peruvians  to 
renew  encounter.  Night  fell  as  calmly  over  the  brooding 
mountains  as  if  it  were  not  curtaining  the  prelude  of  a 
weary  length  of  tragedy  whose  last  act  would  mean  the 
destruction  of  a  civilization. 

For  one  heart  within  the  besieged  city,  crushed  and 
broken  by  sorrows  that  had  searched  and  torn  its  every 
fibre,  the  rise  of  the  sun  upon  the  outburst  of  clamor  of 
conflict  saw  the  last  flickering  of  the  desire  to  live. 


358  THE    CRIMSON    CONQUEST 

Shocked  and  terrified  by  the  tumult  outside,  the  yells  of 
fighting  men,  the  roar  of  charging  horse,  and  the  thunder 
of  guns  —  dread  sounds  which  told  her  of  agony  and 
death  for  her  beloved  people  —  she  closed  her  ears  and 
prayed  to  die.  Life  was  too  full  of  horrors.  Hers 
had  been  shadowed  by  a  pall,  lifted  once  by  love,  only 
to  fall  again  with  deepened  blackness.  Behind  closed 
doors,  with  darkened  windows,  surrounded  by  cowering 
and  weeping  maids,  she  knelt  through  the  long  hours  of 
anguish,  offering  up  shuddering  appeals  to  be  taken 
away. 

The  Auqui  Paullo  came,  flushed  with  excitement  and 
fierce  cheerfulness.  He  knew  the  dire  significance  of  the 
turmoil,  and  bade  Rava  partake  his  own  hope.  The  army 
of  the  Inca  was  afield,  and  deliverance  at  hand.  Alas! 
no  deliverance  to  Rava  from  her  bondage  of  grief.  She 
waved  him  away  and  wept  afresh. 

Late  in  the  day  came  Father  Valverde  from  his 
ministrations  to  dying  Spaniards,  and  she  knelt  at  his 
feet,  imploring  his  prayers  for  her  relief.  The  good 
priest,  shocked  at  her  longing  for  death,  hastened  to 
banish  this  vestige  of  her  barbarism;  prayed  beside  her 
for  the  renewing  of  her  resignation;  told  her  again  of 
His  agony  and  gentle  patience,  of  the  Mother  bereaved, 
and  gave  her  support.  Once  more  he  spoke  of  the 
saintly  lives  of  nuns,  and  she  listened  with  yearning  for 
their  holy  peacefulness.  He  left  her  at  last  with  new 
hope  and  a  resolution  fast  growing.  Rava  would  take 
the  veil. 

The  night  which  closed  the  first  day's  struggle  was 
without  alarm.  The  Spaniards  slept  beside  their  arms,  the 
troopers  in  armor  and  at  the  picket  line  of  their  saddled 
steeds.  Guards  were  doubled,  and  patrols  kept  the  streets. 
The  stars  came  out,  but  they  seemed  rivalled  in  multitude 
and  brilliancy  by  the  fires  of  the  besieging  army,  sparkling 


THE    STORM    BREAKS  359 

in  a  vast  circle  on  the  surrounding  hills,  and  beheld  with 
awe  by  the  beleaguered  conquistadors. 

To  one  Spaniard,  however,  —  to  Cristoval,  —  viewing 
them  from  the  ramparts  of  the  Sachsahuaman,  they  gave 
hope  and  promise.  Beside  Mocho,  and  followed  by  Pedro 
as  closely  as  his  wooden  member  would  permit,  he  had 
taken  part  in  the  storming  of  the  fortress.  Later,  they 
watched  the  struggle  in  the  streets  below,  and  Mocho 
pointed  out  the  Amarucancha,  beneath  whose  roof  was 
Rava.  With  strained  nerves  and  fevered  blood  the  cava 
lier  had  seen  the  conflict  raging  at  the  very  doors  of  the 
palace,  hardly  to  be  withheld  from  descending  to  join 
in  the  battle,  and  deterred  only  by  the  manifest  im 
possibility  of  reaching  its  front  through  the  masses 
in  the  streets.  Sick  at  heart  he  had  witnessed  the  re 
pulse,  but  with  new  resolution  and  a  solemn,  whispered 
oath.  All  day  he  had  lingered  on  the  parapet  study 
ing  the  city  spread  out  like  a  map  below  him,  and  at 
nightfall  the  sight  of  the  great  girdle  of  campfires 
brought  fresh  courage.  With  such  a  host  the  Inca  must 
triumph. 

The  next  morning  news  came  that  Manco  had  engaged 
the  Spanish  cavalry  near  Yucay.  Later,  that  the  Spaniards 
were  in  full  retreat  toward  Cuzco,  and  an  order  was  re 
ceived  from  the  Inca  permitting  them  to  enter  the  city. 
On  the  following  day  they  appeared  on  the  Chinchasuyu 
road,  uncovered  for  their  passage.  The  highway  passed 
at  the  foot  of  a  spur  of  the  hill  Sachsahuaman,  and  from 
the  height  Cristoval  and  Pedro  watched  the  entry  of  the 
cavalcade.  Had  it  not  been  for  a  dozen  empty  saddles  and 
the  litters  borne  by  Canares  in  the  rear,  the  return  might 
have  been  from  a  victory.  Pennons  fluttered,  plumes 
tossed  jauntily  on  helmets,  and  as  they  passed  the  lines 
a  trumpeter  blew  a  quickstep. 

Shortly    after   the    column   had   entered   the   city   a 


360  THE   CRIMSON   CONQUEST 

chasqui  arrived  at  the  fortress  announcing  the  approach 
of  the  Inca,  and  Mocho  paraded  his  Antis  to  receive  him. 
Messengers  were  sent  to  the  several  generals  of  the  divi 
sions  surrounding  the  city,  and  the  afternoon  was  spent 
in  council  with  the  monarch  in  the  citadel. 


CHAPTER  XXXIII 
The  Doomed  City 

ABOUT  two  hours  after  darkness  had  fallen  Pedro 
appeared  at  Cristoval's  door  and  beckoned  him 
out.  The  cook's  face  was  grave. 

"What  is  it,  amigo?"  asked  Cristoval,   as 
they  stepped  upon  the  terrace  surrounding  the  tower. 

"  I  know  not,  nor  can  I  learn ;  but  something  is  afoot. 
Come !  "  He  led  toward  the  rampart  nearest  the  city. 

The  plain  within  the  fortress  was  now  covered  with 
tents,  but  as  they  traversed  the  encampment  its  streets 
were  deserted.  From  the  midst  rose  the  pile  of  the  citadel, 
Moyoc  Marca,  dimly  outlined  in  the  starlight,  and  showing 
a  single  lighted  window  below  the  battlements.  At  the 
edge  of  the  camp  they  passed  the  embers  at  the  kitchens, 
and  beyond  these  were  a  few  silent  groups  of  camp 
attendants  looking  toward  the  south,  where  presently 
Cristoval  descried  the  motionless  masses  of  the  garrison 
drawn  up  under  arms  and  facing  the  ramparts.  The* 
cavalier  looked  about  in  surprise. 

"  What  is  the  meaning  of  it,  Pedro?  "  he  demanded. 

Pedro  shook  his  head  and  stumped  on  without  reply. 
Passing  between  two  of  the  battalions,  they  reached  the 
margin  of  the  plain,  and  skirting  it,  drew  near  the  battle 
ments.  Three  fires  were  burning  brightly,  and  the  two 
Spaniards  caught  the  pungent,  resinous  odor  of  boiling 
pitch  rising  from  kettles  suspended  over  the  flames.  Be 
tween  these  and  the  parapet  was  a  group  of  officers,  and 


362  THE   CRIMSON    CONQUEST 

a  few  paces  in  their  front  stood  a  cloaked  figure,  motion 
less  and  alone.  The  firelight  flashed  on  the  golden  eagle 
of  the  helmet,  and  Cristoval  recognized  the  Inca.  Halt 
ing  at  a  short  distance  from  the  fires,  the  cavalier 
looked  over  the  scene  in  mystification.  Again  he 
demanded :  — 

"  What  is  to  do,  Pedro?  Canst  guess?  They  are 
heating  pitch !  Madre  I  Is  there  to  be  torture?  " 

"  God  knoweth !  "  said  Pedro.    "  Wait !  " 

With  the  exception  of  a  small  party  of  soldiers  around 
the  kettles,  no  man  was  moving.  No  word  was  spoken, 
unless  by  these,  and  their  tense,  suppressed  tones  added 
to  the  pervading  air  of  mystery.  Two  were  feeding  the 
fires,  while  the  rest  were  kneeling  or  bending  over  some 
task  whose  nature  Cristoval  could  not  discern.  Presently 
he  saw  three  or  four  rise  to  string  their  bows.  Aside  from 
their  whispers  and  muttering  and  the  crackling  of  the  fires, 
the  only  sound  was  the  sighing  of  the  rising  wind;  and 
now,  from  the  shadowy  city  far  below,  the  sweet,  distant 
wail  of  a  Spanish  bugle  blowing  an  evening  call.  Out  in 
the  dark  valley,  beyond  the  dim  reticulation  of  black  streets 
and  pale  roofs,  was  the  great  cincture  of  watch-fires,  glim 
mering  and  twinkling  as  cheerfully  as  if  their  omen  were 
as  peaceful  as  the  stars.  But  the  night,  even  in  its  placid 
ity,  seemed  portentous,  and  Cristoval  felt  a  sense  of  dread 
as  he  glanced  from  the  kettles  with  their  wizard-like  at 
tendants  to  the  silent,  muffled  figure  of  the  Inca. 

"  God's  mercy,  Pedro !  "  he  whispered,  with  a  sign  of 
the  cross,  "what  is  doing?  What  hell's  broth  do  they 
brew?  Not  —  " 

Pedro  gripped  his  arm  as  a  soldier  stepped  to  a  kettle, 
holding  an  arrow  swathed  in  cotton,  and  turned  toward 
the  Inca.  The  monarch  made  a  sign,  and  thrusting  the 
missile  into  the  boiling  pitch,  the  archer  drew  it  forth  and 
held  it  to  the  flames.  It  burst  into  instant  blaze,  and  he 


THE    DOOMED   CITY  363 

strode  hastily  to  the  parapet,  set  it  to  his  bowstring,  and 
drew  until  the  flame  licked  his  hand.  He  shot,  and  with 
a  fluttering  hiss  the  burning  arrow  soared  high  into  the 
darkness,  leaving  a  trail  of  falling  sparks,  paused  for  an 
instant  against  the  firmament,  and  fell  with  ever-increasing 
swiftness  into  the  city. 

Cristoval  had  uttered  an  exclamation  of  horror  as  the 
meaning  burst  upon  him,  and  had  taken  a  stride  forward, 
to  be  jerked  forcibly  back  by  Pedro  with  a  hand  over  his 
mouth. 

"  Silence ! "  muttered  the  cook.  "  Dost  think  to 
hinder?  " 

"  They  are  firing  the  city !  "  gasped  the  cavalier. 

"  Canst  prevent  it?    Beware! " 

"  Rava  —  " 

"Safe  with  Valverde!  Come!"  Pedro  dragged  him 
out  of  ear-shot  of  the  Inca,  warning  him  to  hold  his  tongue. 

A  second  arrow  sped  its  flaming  course,  then  a  third; 
and  at  once,  from  a  hundred  points  around  the  doomed 
capital,  mounted  thin  pencillings  of  fire  answering  those 
from  the  fortress  and  falling  like  a  shower  of  meteors. 
Arrow  after  arrow  flashed  out  from  the  parapet  into  the 
surrounding  gloom,  and  Cristoval  gazed  spellbound.  Be 
low,  where  the  first  had  descended,  was  a  tiny,  wavering 
flame.  While  he  watched,  speechless,  breathless,  it  grew 
with  every  second,  its  base  spreading  rapidly  with  ragged 
outline  over  the  tinder-like  thatch  of  one  of  the  nearer 
buildings.  Beyond,  another  feeble  blaze  was  springing, 
and  not  far  from  this,  a  third.  The  first  was  now  leaping, 
sending  up  a  tenuous  column  of  smoke  which  grew  ruddy 
momentarily,  and  was  seized  by  the  wind  and  swept  away 
toward  the  eastern  hills.  The  flame  waxed  with  incredible 
swiftness,  lost  its  brilliance,  turned  deep  and  angry,  with 
a  lurid  veil  around  it,  through  which  darted  red  tongues, 
whipping  plumes,  and  forked  lashes.  In  a  moment  the 


364 

smoke  was  rolling  upward  in  volumes,  showing  whirling 
gaps  with  depths  of  murky  incandescence,  masses  of  black 
rising  heavily  after  eddying  sprays  of  sparks  and  burning 
fragments  of  straw.  Where  the  first  arrow  had  fallen  was 
a  volcano  of  fire  with  smaller  craters  bursting  out  on  every 
hand. 

In  the  distant  suburbs  were  splashes  of  flame  and 
towers  of  smoke  in  a  huge,  infernal  circle,  and  the  watch- 
fires  on  the  hills  were  gradually  blotted  out  by  a  broken, 
rufous  curtain.  Now  the  roofs  of  palaces  stood  out  in 
pallid  relief  against  the  inky  blackness  of  the  streets, 
and  the  golden  thatch  of  the  Temple  of  the  Sun  was 
gleaming  fitfully  in  the  wavering  illumination.  From 
the  square,  at  the  first  outbreak  of  the  fire,  had  risen 
shouts  of  alarm,  the  startled  clamor  of  trumpets,  then 
the  dismal  howling  of  Canares.  But  shortly  these  had 
ceased,  the  beleaguered  stricken  into  dumbness  by  the 
terrific  vengeance  with  which  they  were  menaced.  The 
city  had  grown  strangely  still,  as  if  waiting,  aghast,  for 
its  fate. 

Cristoval  gazed  in  stupefaction,  held  in  a  paralysis 
by  thought  of  the  danger  to  the  loved  one  within  the 
swiftly  growing  chain  of  conflagration.  It  seemed  an  age 
before  his  tense  muscles  obeyed  his  will.  A  suppressed 
exclamation  from  Pedro  at  last  dissolved  the  spell,  and 
with  a  groan  he  dashed  toward  his  quarters. 

Mocho  was  approaching,  and  the  cavalier  ran  against 
him.  "  Whither,  friend?  "  demanded  the  general,  detaining 
him  forcibly. 

Cristoval  made  a  wild  gesture  toward  the  fire.  "  To 
arm  —  into  the  city  —  the  Nusta  Rava !  "  He  broke  away. 

Mocho  looked  after  him,  dumbfounded,  then  hastened 
to  his  command  and  called  an  officer.  "  Take  fifty, 
Rimachi,"  he  said,  hurriedly,  "  and  follow  the  Viracocha 
Cristoval.  Obey  his  orders  as  mine.  He  goeth  into  Cuzco 


THE    DOOMED   CITY  365 

in  aid  of  the  Nusta  Rava.  Go  first  to  his  quarters  in  the 
Paucar  Marca.  Speed !  " 

Rimachi  entered  Cristoval's  apartment  and  reported 
his  orders.  Pedro  followed  him  in.  The  cook  had  come 
at  his  best  speed,  but  the  cavalier  was  finishing  his  arm 
ing  as  he  entered. 

"  Wait  for  me,  Cristoval ! "  he  panted,  as  he  donned 
his  corselet. 

"  Nay !  "  said  Cristoval,  latching  his  helmet  and  seiz 
ing  his  buckler.  "  This  time  we  part,  good  old  comrade. 
Thou  hast  risked  thyself  too  often  for  friendship's  sake. 
I  go  alone.  Farewell !  "  Pedro  wrung  his  extended  hand, 
swearing  and  almost  weeping  at  being  left  behind,  but 
before  he  could  protest,  Cristoval  was  gone. 

Outside,  the  whole  world  to  the  south  seemed  aflame. 
A  monstrous,  reddened  cloud  leaped  and  surged  toward  the 
heavens,  apparently  against  the  very  ramparts  of  the  fort 
ress.  The  plain,  its  tents,  the  towers,  the  battalions  of 
the  garrison,  and  every  inequality  of  the  ground,  were  as 
clearly  marked  in  the  ruddy,  reflected  glow  as  if  by  dawn. 
Cristoval  paused  for  an  instant,  overcome  by  the  terrible 
magnificence  of  the  spectacle  and  the  grewsome  roar  and 
crackle  of  the  fire,  which  had  grown  apace  in  the  short  time 
it  had  taken  him  to  arm;  then  consigned  himself  to  the 
Virgin's  care  and  hurried  to  the  southernmost  gate,  fol 
lowed  by  the  Antis. 

Here  the  road  drops  abruptly  down  the  cliff  to  the 
terraces  of  the  Colcampata,  several  hundred  feet  below. 
Part  of  the  way  was  by  steps  made  treacherous  by  the 
unusual  lights  and  shadows,  and  uncertain  by  the  dense 
smoke  drifting  from  the  western  suburbs;  but  Cristoval 
descended  at  a  run,  and  was  soon  at  the  foot  of  the  decliv 
ity.  Here  he  was  overtaken  by  his  party,  and  paused  to 
consider  with  Rimachi  the  possible  avenues  of  entry.  In 
front,  the  nearest  buildings  were  a  mass  of  flames.  To  the 


366  THE    CRIMSON    CONQUEST 

right,  he  could  see  the  district  called  Huaca  Puncu,  already 
burning  fiercely  in  a  score  of  places.  On  the  left,  he  re 
membered,  was  the  stream  Tullamayu,  and  after  a  brief 
consultation  they  hastened  across  the  terraces.  Through 
gardens  and  over  walls,  they  were  presently  following 
a  street  to  the  eastward,  stumbling  in  the  murk.  At 
the  edge  of  the  ravine  was  a  low  wall,  surmounted  in  a 
second,  and  they  rushed  down  the  terraced  bank  to  the 
stream.  Cristoval  was  harrowed  by  a  fear  that  the  almost 
solid  belt  of  fire  before  him  would  prove  impassable.  The 
few  gaps  were  closing  momentarily,  forming  a  nearly  con 
tinuous  sheet  of  leaping,  whirling  flame  whose  heat  reached 
even  to  where  he  stood.  The  narrow  course  of  the  Tulla 
mayu  presented  the  only  breach,  and  this  was  already  peril 
ous,  dense  with  smoke  and  illumined  by  a  storm  of  falling 
sparks  and  burning  brands.  He  glanced  about  at  the 
Antis.  Their  faces  were  alight  and  their  eyes  gleaming 
with  the  fire,  but  they  showed  no  sign  of  fear,  and  with  a 
word  to  Rimachi,  Cristoval  started  down  the  stream. 

Shortly  they  were  within  the  fire-belt,  heads  bent  for 
ward,  groping  through  the  stinging  smoke  and  rain  of 
embers,  blundering  and  slipping  on  the  water-worn  bowl 
ders,  under  an  appalling  canopy.  The  bed  of  the  stream 
was  pent  between  walls  of  masonry  with  a  narrow  quay 
along  either  bank.  The  structures  on  both  sides  were  now 
topped  with  spouting  flames  whipped  out  overhead  by  the 
wind  in  huge  streamers  and  pennons.  The  sound  of  the 
stream  was  drowned  by  the  roar  and  snapping  of  the  con 
flagration,  the  crash  of  falling  timbers,  and  the  incessant 
hiss  of  firebrands  showering  into  the  water.  The  air  grew 
hotter  and  more  stifling,  until  they  breathed  in  gasps,  but 
pushed  on,  dashing  water  over  their  apparel  to  save  them 
selves  from  being  burned  alive.  Panting  and  floundering, 
kneeling  from  time  to  time  to  cool  his  scorching  armor  and 
fill  his  lungs  from  the  lower  air,  Cristoval  led  onward. 


THE    DOOMED    CITY  367 

At  length  he  could  see  that  the  glare  in  advance  was 
growing  less.  They  had  gained  the  inner  edge  of  the  fire- 
zone.  A  few  yards  more,  and  they  were  in  a -freer  atmos 
phere  and  partial  darkness,  and  they  halted,  leaning 
against  the  walls  or  crouching  in  the  stream  to  recover 
from  the  exhaustion  of  the  ordeal.  Cristoval  anxiously 
counted  his  men.  None  were  wanting,  and  they  groped 
on,  presently  passing  beneath  a  bridge.  Below  was  a 
flight  of  steps  leading  to  the  quay.  Cristoval  mounted, 
and  motioned  the  Antis  to  follow.  The  air  was  thick 
with  smoke  beaten  down  by  the  wind,  but  still  danger 
ously  light  from  the  blazing  buildings  they  had  passed, 
and  the  cavalier  felt  the  insecurity.  A  few  yards  away 
was  the  entrance  of  a  street  leading  westward,  somewhat 
darker  by  reason  of  being  parallel  to  the  line  of  fire,  and 
he  ran  his  men  into  its  shadow.  Now  he  wished  with 
fervency  that  he  had  a  guide;  for  he  learned  that  neither 
Rimachi  nor  his  Antis  were  acquainted  with  Cuzco. 

Cristoval  knew  where  the  Amarucancha  must  lie, 
and  that  the  street  they  were  on  would  lead  toward  it; 
further  than  this  he  was  ignorant.  He  knew,  moreover, 
that  the  palace  stood  beside  the  stream  Huatenay,  and 
trusted  that,  the  rivulet  once  gained,  he  could  find  his 
objective  with  little  difficulty.  Once  within  with  his 
Antis,  he  could  wait  for  a  favorable  moment  to  escape 
with  Rava. 

Cristoval  pushed  forward  through  the  half-dark, 
straining  eyes  and  ears.  Little  could  be  seen  but  dim  walls 
looming  on  either  side,  with  a  flying  drift  of  smoke  above, 
racing  before  the  wind  and  weirdly  lighted,  curling  over 
roofs,  and  sucked  down  in  ghostly  swirls  into  the  street 
before  them.  Now,  it  happened  that,  deceived  by  the 
apparent  length  of  time  during  which  they  had  struggled 
down  the  course  of  the  Tullamayu,  Cristoval  fancied 
himself  in  the  lower  part  of  the  city.  But  the  street 


368  THE  CRIMSON   CONQUEST 

they  were  following  was  the  one  in  all  Cuzco  which  should 
have  been  avoided.  It  was  the  highway  leading  from  the 
Antisuyu  road  directly  to  the  great  square.  It  was  de 
serted  now,  however,  and  Cristoval  pressed  rapidly  on, 
passing  cavernous  doorways  of  palaces,  many  of  them 
standing  broad  open  as  they  had  been  left  by  their  Spanish 
occupants  when  the  starting  conflagration  had  hastened 
them  to  the  open  plaza.  Cristoval  passed  them  cautiously, 
peering  into  the  dark  courts  to  make  sure  there  were  no 
lingerers.  But  all  seemed  vacant,  and  save  for  the  murmur 
of  fountains  caught  occasionally,  all  were  silent. 

At  a  broad  street  crossing  he  halted,  half  disposed  to 
make  farther  toward  lower  Cuzco,  suspecting  from  the 
nearness  of  the  fire,  now  only  a  few  hundred  yards  to  the 
north,  that  he  was  closer  to  the  square  than  was  prudent. 
But  the  brighter  illumination  of  the  intersecting  street 
decided  him  to  continue  his  way.  He  was  about  to  ad 
vance  when  Rimachi  seized  his  arm.  The  keener  ears  of 
the  Indio  had  caught  a  sound.  The  cavalier  listened  with 
concentration.  From  somewhere  in  the  obscurity  came 
the  ordered  tramp  of  soldiers  and  the  murmur  of  voices, 
but  in  the  confusion  of  sounds  from  the  fire  he  was  unable 
to  determine  the  direction.  Anxious,  above  all  things, 
to  avoid  the  mishap  of  an  encounter  that  would  be  most 
certain,  whatever  the  result,  to  abort  his  plans,  he  turned 
to  motion  the  Antis  back  into  the  shadow  of  the  street 
from  which  they  had  emerged,  when  an  abrupt  challenge 
from  the  darkness  ahead  left  no  doubt  of  the  source  of  the 
sounds.  Standing  in  the  half-light  of  the  crossing,  he  and 
the  group  about  him  were  more  plainly  visible  than  he  had 
thought.  Before  he  could  effect  a  retirement,  he  received 
a  second  challenge,  and  a  party  advanced  from  the  dark 
ness  at  a  run.  It  was  too  late  to  retreat.  A  score  of 
pikes  and  halberds  charged  into  the  light.  With  a  shout 
to  his  men  Cristoval  drew  and  attacked. 


369 

The  Antis,  excited  by  the  conflagration,  and  mad 
dened  by  burns,  needed  but  the  word.  They  rushed  with 
a  yell  that  startled  even  Cristoval  by  its  ferocity,  and  drove 
into  the  Spanish  patrol  with  a  savage  impetus  which 
would  have  shaken  a  regiment. 

The  fight  was  terribly  brief.  Cristoval  had  hardly 
flashed  his  blade  in  the  first  collision  before  the  party 
was  swept  away  from  him  by  the  charge  of  the  Antis. 
The  Spaniards  recovered,  resisted  sharply  for  an  instant, 
then  broke  for  the  square  with  the  Antis  in  hot  pursuit. 

But  a  stubborn  opposition  would  have  been  less  dis 
astrous  than  this  victory.  Already  a  trumpet  was  sound 
ing,  alarmingly  close  at  hand.  In  quick  realization, 
Cristoval  rushed  after  his  men,  ordering  them  back,  collar 
ing  a  few  whom  he  was  able  to  overtake,  only  partly  suc 
cessful  in  staying  the  chase.  Before  he  ceased  he  saw 
the  dim  lights  of  the  open  square  a  few  steps  distant, 
heard  the  shouts  of  the  startled  Spaniards  and  the  uproar 
of  moving  cavalry.  The  Antis  in  front,  aware  of  their 
peril,  came  flying  back,  and  he  joined  their  retreat  just  as 
a  party  of  horse  entered  the  head  of  the  street. 

It  was  a  dash,  now,  for  life.  Cristoval  noted  the  in 
terval  before  the  trot  behind  broke  into  a  gallop. 
Weighted  by  his  armor,  his  speed  was  slow,  and  he  heard 
the  Antis  pass  him  in  the  darkness.  The  street  was  clam 
oring  with  the  din  of  hoofs,  nearing  every  instant.  He 
stumbled  over  a  prostrate  form  and  almost  fell ;  recovered, 
and  sped  on.  The  fleet  Antis  had  left  him  far  behind,  and 
he  was  flying  alone  with  death  at  his  back.  Now  the 
troop  was  almost  upon  him.  He  was  lost!  —  No!  A 
doorway!  He  flung  himself  into  its  shadow  headlong, 
and  the  charging  column  went  past  with  a  roar  that  shook 
the  earth.  By  the  grace  of  Heaven,  he  had  not  been  seen. 
Or,  if  seen  by  the  foremost  troopers,  those  behind  had 
forced  them  past,  and  for  a  moment  he  was  safe.  For  a 


370  THE    CRIMSON    CONQUEST 

moment  only,  for  infantry  would  follow;  and  as  the  last 
files  thundered  by  he  staggered  to  his  feet  and  hurried 
after. 

Ahead  was  the  broad  thoroughfare  where  he  had 
stood  with  Rimachi,  and  in  its  light  he  could  see  the  glint 
of  the  helmets  of  the  troop.  An  instant,  and  they  had  van 
ished  into  the  darkness  beyond.  Could  he  cross  the  lighted 
space  unseen?  He  was  panting  with  the  weight  of  his 
steel  and  the  previous  exertion,  and  his  pace  slackened. 
When  he  reached  the  corner  he  was  stumbling  and  plung 
ing  with  weariness,  and  he  paused  to  breathe  and  recon 
noitre  before  venturing  to  cross.  Toward  the  Tullamayu 
he  heard  the  uproar  of  the  still  receding  troop,  and  a  glance 
up  and  down  the  lighted  street  showed  him  that  all  had 
kept  on  in  that  direction.  But  behind  was  the  rushing 
of  many  feet.  The  infantry  were  following.  He  dashed 
across  the  open,  conscious  of  the  fierce  glare  in  the  north, 
already  perceptibly  more  intense,  and  gained  the  farther 
obscurity.  He  remembered  the  open  doorways,  and 
struggled  forward  with  desperation.  As  he  turned  into 
the  shelter  of  one  of  them  at  last,  a  glance  over  his  shoul 
der  showed  him  morions  gleaming  in  the  firelight  at  the 
crossing. 

He  had  strength  to  swing  the  ponderous  door  and 
place  the  bar,  but  no  more,  and  sank  down  beneath  armor 
that  weighed  a  ton.  He  lay  straining  to  suppress  his 
heavy  breathing  that  he  might  listen  for  the  approach  of 
the  infantry.  He  heard  them  presently,  and  rose  to  his 
knees,  gripping  his  sword.  They  seemed  so  long  in  pass 
ing  that  he  fancied  they  were  gathering  about  the  door; 
and  expecting  every  instant  to  hear  it  assaulted,  he  gained 
his  feet,  praying  for  new  strength  to  fight.  But  they 
passed,  and  the  street  grew  quiet.  Still  he  hearkened, 
minute  after  minute,  for  sounds  which  might  indicate 
whether  the  Antis  had  been  struck,  until,  after  what  must 


THE    DOOMED   CITY  371 

have  been  an  hour,  he  heard  the  troop  straggling  by  on 
its  return  to  the  square.  An  interval,  and  a  party  of  the 
infantry  tramped  by  in  the  same  direction,  and  he  surmised 
from  the  smallness  of  the  number  that  it  had  divided  into 
squads  to  search  the  streets.  After  this,  a  welcome 
silence. 

Exhausted,  desperate  at  the  catastrophe  which  had 
so  abruptly  blocked  his  project,  the  cavalier  entered  the 
court  to  seek  the  fountain  whose  plash  had  been  torturing 
his  thirst.  The  place,  evidently  one  of  the  numerous 
palaces,  was  quite  deserted.  Doors  stood  open  upon  dark 
chambers,  but  there  was  neither  light,  sound,  nor  sign  of 
life,  and  he  traversed  the  dusky  courts  in  solitude. 


CHAPTER  XXXIV 
In  the  Burning  Palace 

ON  the  rampart  of  the  Sachsahuaman,  apart  from 
his  generals,  wrapped  in  his  cloak,  and  shrouded 
more  impenetrably  by  something  which  forbade 
approach ;  a  dark  silhouette  against  a  sky  wilder 
and  more  terrible  than  words  can  describe;  unspeakably 
solemn  before  the  havoc  wrought  at  his  command,  stood 
the  Inca.    In  his  grim  silence  and  immobility,  in  his  relent 
less  wielding  of  a  power  little  less  absolute  than  that  of  a 
god,  he  took  on  the  sinister  majesty  of  the  spectacle  his 
fiat  had  created. 

When  flame  followed  the  fall  of  the  first  arrow,  he  had 
buried  his  face  in  his  cloak.  Slowly  lowering  his  arm,  he 
had  looked  on  with  countenance  inflexible  as  bronze  while 
destruction  progressed  in  leaps  and  bounds.  After  this, 
not  the  tremor  of  a  muscle.  To  his  nobles,  quailing  and 
awe-stricken  at  the  sublime  horror  of  the  scene,  he  was 
never  before  so  much  a  king. 

Such  his  aspect.  For  the  emotions  sternly  repressed, 
but  racking  him  to  the  soul  —  what  words!  The  sacred 
city,  the  favored  of  the  Sun,  the  home  and  the  monument 
of  the  loving  care  of  a  mighty  line  of  monarchs,  perishing 
under  his  hand.  The  city  whose  splendor  had  been  the 
work  of  generations  of  great  kings ;  for  whose  glory  count 
less  thousands  of  their  subjects  had  toiled,  had  fought,  had 
died,  given  by  him  to  demolition !  —  doomed  by  the  man 
date  of  one  who  had  received  the  llautu  from  the  profane 


IN   THE   BURNING   PALACE  373 

hand  of  a  ravager;  who  had  suffered  the  scorn  of  an 
ignoble  band  of  licentious  and  greedy  invaders  and  had 
lived;  who  had  worn  fetters  like  a  criminal  and  had  lain 
in  prison  under  the  eyes  of  scoffing  guards!  That  he  — 
O,  Inti !  —  that  he,  still  wearing  the  marks  of  his  bonds 
like  a  released  slave,  should  be  the  destroyer!  Could 
Cuzco  but  have  fallen  beneath  the  hand  of  a  hero,  even 
an  enemy,  and  could  he  have  fallen  with  it,  its  defender, 
he  had  been  worthy  to  take  his  place  with  the  shades  of  his 
ancestors.  But  he  had  himself  led  the  enemy  to  its  palace 
doors,  had  seen  them  plunder  its  temples,  ravish  its  vestals, 
and  befoul  its  most  sacred  spots.  And  now  he  was  giving 
Cuzco  to  the  flames!  Would  the  Sun  ever  rise  upon  him 
again? 

Ah  —  but  —  could  he  dare  to  address  a  prayer  to  that 
god  while  Cuzco  remained  unpurged?  By  the  great  Inti, 
the  fire  should  do  its  purifying  work!  From  cottage, 
palace,  and  temple,  the  stench  of  the  Viracocha  should  be 
burned !  Should  the  last  wall  be  levelled  to  the  earth,  the 
last  stone  of  its  streets  upturned,  no  vestige  of  their 
defilement  should  remain.  Cuzco  would  rise  again,  and 
the  Viracochas  be  forgotten.  Let  the  dead  Incas  look  on 
whilst  he  wiped  out  the  stain  of  the  ancient  city's  dis 
honor  and  his  own ! 

When  at  length  the  sky  was  graying  and  he  turned 
away,  facing  his  generals,  but  seeing  none  of  them,  they 
beheld  a  countenance  aged  as  by  years  since  he  had  last 
spoken.  In  a  night  the  torture  of  mind  and  heart  had 
moulded  lines  usually  beaten  in  only  by  the  blows  of  long 
and  hard  experience. 

At  the  door  of  his  apartments  he  dismissed  his  attend 
ants  with  a  word.  But,  alas!  a  king  before  men,  alone 
he  was  a  mortal  man.  He  knelt  and  prayed  for  tears. 
Resting  upon  his  shoulders,  with  the  burden  of  an  empire, 
was  now  the  weight  of  a  monstrous  tragedy;  but  upon 


374  THE    CRIMSON    CONQUEST 

his  heart,  the  unutterable  sorrow  of  a  brother  and  a  lover. 
Within  that  dread  circle  of  fire  were  loved  ones,  and 
among  them  the  sweetest  of  consorts.  No  man  looked 
upon  his  grief.  No  man  but  can  know  what  his  grief 
must  have  been. 

The  sun  rose  upon  a  scene  of  devastation  shorn  of  its 
splendor.  Around  the  city  was  a  belt  of  blackened  ruins 
from  which  rolled  a  volume  of  smoke  which  partly  ob 
scured  the  fiercer  burning  within.  To  the  westward,  the 
direction  from  which  the  wind  had  blown,  this  district 
was  broad.  The  fire  had  been  driven  rapidly  across  the 
suburbs  toward  Cuzco  proper,  and  the  houses  being 
largely  of  adobe,  the  destruction  was  complete.  Below 
the  fortress,  in  the  quarter  of  the  palaces,  the  fire  had  to 
fight  its  way  across  the  wind,  and  its  advance  had  been 
less  swift.  Here  the  buildings  were  of  stone,  and  through 
breaks  in  the  murk  were  visible  walls  intact,  surrounding 
desolate  courts  with  charred  skeletons  of  trees.  To  the 
east  the  city  was  hidden  in  the  huge  surging  cloud  drift 
ing  sluggishly  off  toward  the  mountains.  From  the  ram 
parts  little  could  be  seen  of  the  fire  except  occasional 
glimpses  of  flame  through  the  rifts;  and  as  Pedro 
stumped  to  and  fro  on  the  parapet,  fuming  and  praying, 
harassed  by  fears,  he  could  only  guess  at  the  perils  by 
which  Cristoval  was  surrounded.  Before  the  sun  had 
lifted  above  the  mountains  the  Antis  began  straggling  in, 
smoked,  scorched,  and  many  of  them  wounded,  bearing 
the  tale  of  their  encounter.  Ten  or  more  did  not  return. 
Rimachi  was  one  of  the  last  to  come,  and  having  reported 
to  Mocho,  the  latter  sought  the  cook  with  the  news  of 
the  probable  fate  of  the  cavalier.  Pedro  made  no  reply, 
but  turning  with  his  face  painfully  twitching,  he  hastened 
to  his  quarters  —  to  be  seen  no  more  that  day. 

Once  more  to  Cristoval.     Assuring  himself  that  he 
was  the  sole  occupant  of  the  building,  he  explored  the 


IN    THE    BURNING    PALACE  375 

several  courts  for  its  exits,  and  found,  in  the  rear,  the 
door  of  a  passage  which  led  to  the  broad  street  he  had 
recently  crossed.  This  might  serve  as  a  line  of  retreat. 
Patrols  were  still  moving  in  the  streets,  and  fixing  the 
location  of  the  passage  among  the  intricacies  of  dark  cham 
bers  and  courts,  he  sought  next,  like  a  prudent  soldier, 
for  the  kitchens  and  larder.  This  quest  was  difficult,  for 
the  operation  of  making  a  light,  even  could  he  have  found 
a  lamp,  would  have  demanded  more  time  than  he  could 
spare.  Trusting  to  his  sense  of  smell,  blunted  though  it 
was  by  smoke,  he  wandered  from  one  room  to  another, 
his  steps,  the  rustle  of  his  armor,  and  the  clank  of  his 
sword  rousing  uncanny  echoes  from  the  lofty  walls  of 
stone.  At  last  he  stumbled  upon  a  table  still  spread  with 
an  abandoned  supper,  and  groping  among  the  viands,  he 
hastily  made  a  meal. 

A  glance  at  the  sky  from  the  court  showed  a  noticeable 
advance  of  the  fire,  though  the  direction  of  the  wind 
held  it  in  check  and  carried  the  sparks  and  brands  off  to 
the  eastward.  While  he  stood  he  heard  the  clatter  of 
troopers  in  the  street;  but  it  died  away  presently,  and  he 
made  his  way  to  the  postern.  At  the  end  of  the  passage 
he  reconnoitred  the  street,  now  more  brightly  illumined 
than  before,  and  was  about  to  leave  his  hiding,  when  two 
horsemen  trotted  into  the  light  and  halted  at  the  crossing, 
their  lance-heads  glittering  in  the  firelight.  They  were 
too  near  to  leave  a  possibility  of  his  quitting  the  passage 
unseen.  Furthermore,  he  recognized  the  unwelcome  fact 
that  they  were  there  en  vedette,  and  would  remain.  Evi 
dently,  the  attack  upon  the  patrol  had  made  the  Spaniards 
vigilant.  Cristoval  set  his  teeth.  Here  was  a  situation, 
by  the  fighting  saint !  Trapped  in  a  building  which  would 
be  afire  before  many  hours,  with  a  prospective  choice  of 
being  burned  alive,  or  run  through  by  a  Spanish  lance 
in  the  effort  to  escape !  For  a  bad  quarter  of  an  hour  he 


376  THE    CRIMSON    CONQUEST 

watched  the  troopers  with  an  interest  his  countrymen 
had  seldom  roused  in  him  before,  consigning  them  in  vig 
orous  whispers  to  divers  painful  fates,  until,  observing  one 
of  them  hitch  himself  in  his  saddle  into  a  lounging  seat, 
he  gave  it  up  and  groped  back  into  the  palace. 

There  was  one  other  exit:  the  door  by  which  he 
entered.  The  darkness  of  that  street  might  favor.  He 
would  try  it.  In  the  main  court  nearest  the  entrance 
was  the  fountain,  a  pool  of  some  ten  feet  in  diameter  with 
steps  descending  to  the  water  a  yard  below  the  level,  and 
surrounded  by  seats  and  parterres  full  of  shrubbery. 
He  stopped  there  and  drank  deep,  for  the  fire  and  cinders 
would  not  out  from  his  throat.  Then  to  the  door.  He  laid 
aside  his  buckler  and  put  hand  to  the  bar.  Cautiously 
now,  Cristoval;  for  with  sentinels  near,  this  business 
should  be  of  an  inconspicuous  kind.  The  timber  stuck 
slightly,  then  yielded,  slipped  from  his  grasp,  and  fell 
with  a  crash  laud  as  the  crack  of  doom. 

It  was  answered  at  once  by  the  sound  of  a  horse 
spurred  to  a  trot,  and  snatching  up  his  buckler,  Cristoval 
retreated  to  the  parterres.  He  gained  the  shelter  just  as 
the  trooper  pushed  open  the  door.  He  rode  in  and  halted 
near  the  entrance;  peered  about  in  the  obscurity,  called 
twice  or  thrice,  then  rode  slowly  about  the  enclosure, 
looking  into  the  darkness  of  the  open  doors.  Cristoval 
watched  him,  praying  that  he  might  push  on  into  the 
interior  courts,  or  that  he  might  dismount.  In  the  latter 
event  he  should  find  what  he  sought  with  a  vengeance, 
and  that  horse  would  change  owners.  But  the  trooper 
soon  returned,  scanning  the  parterres  as  he  passed.  At 
the  entrance  he  halted  and  surveyed  the  place  again, 
only  half  satisfied.  Finally  he  rode  out.  Cristoval  fol 
lowed  cautiously,  to  have  a  look  at  the  street.  No  hope 
there.  The  soldier  had  taken  position  a  few  yards 
away,  and  there  remained,  while  the  prisoner  returned  to 


IN   THE   BURNING  PALACE  377 

the  fountain  and  had  another  bad  quarter  of  an  hour. 
There  was  no  choice  but  to  stay  where  he  was  and  pray 
that  the  sentinels  might  be  withdrawn  at  daylight,  or  be 
driven  from  their  posts  by  the  approaching  fire.  Then, 
provided  he  was  not  roasted  to  death  in  the  meantime,  he 
might  escape. 

He  sat  through  the  night,  going  at  intervals  to  the 
doors  in  faint  hope,  returning  with  disquietude  more 
profound,  to  watch  the  relentless  nearing  of  the  confla 
gration.  At  last  came  the  dawn,  more  depressing  in  its 
ghastly  light  than  the  night.  He  stretched  himself  beneath 
the  shrubbery.  As  the  morning  advanced  the  wind  veered 
farther  to  the  south,  and  this,  he  hoped,  would  retard  the 
progress  of  the  fire  in  his  direction  until  the  evening. 

Cristoval  was  blessed  with  a  sanguine  temperament, 
and  was,  moreover,  like  most  men  who  follow  peril,  a 
fatalist.  Death  had  stood  so  often  beside  him,  and  had 
so  often  withheld  the  blow,  that  he  had  lost  the  appre 
ciation  of  danger  while  he  could  look  forward  to  another 
minute  of  life.  Now,  there  were  hours  before  him,  at 
least,  and  faith  that  good  fortune  or  resourcefulness  would 
open  a  way  of  deliverance.  Therefore,  why  not  be  com 
fortable  while  comforts  were  at  hand?  He  remembered 
the  spread  table.  He  crept  from  concealment,  went  to 
the  door  for  another  look  at  the  sentinels,  and  entered  the 
dining-hall.  He  had  seated  himself  when  he  perceived 
that  the  tableware  was  silver.  He  rose  abruptly.  "  Oho ! 
that  meaneth  the  tenant  will  return,  else  the  tenant  is  not 
a  Spaniard."  He  selected  a  generous  double  handful  of 
the  victuals  and  returned  to  the  fountain.  Going  to  an 
other  chamber,  he  brought  forth  a  rug  which  he  deposited 
beneath  the  thickest  of  the  shrubbery,  and  there  made  his 
breakfast  calmly. 

Now  began  a  weary  watch,  broken  by  short  spells  of 
uneasy  sleep  and  startled  awakenings.  Once,  roused  by 


378  THE    CRIMSON    CONQUEST 

voices  in  the  court  and  hurried  steps,  he  saw  two  Canares, 
evidently  servants,  enter  the  dining-hall.  They  came 
out  with  the  silver,  just  as  a  cavalier,  a  stranger  to  Cris- 
toval,  emerged  from  another  room  with  a  bundle  of  papers 
and  wearing  apparel.  The  man  was  in  full  armor  and 
looked  haggard  and  anxious,  but  seemed  intent  only  upon 
the  movements  of  the  Canares,  whom  he  ordered  impa 
tiently  to  hasten.  He  followed  them  out  at  length,  and 
again  the  court  was  quiet.  After  a  glance  at  the  whirling 
bank  of  smoke  to  the  north,  Cristoval  stretched  himself 
out  once  more  and  soon  was  slumbering. 

Toward  midday  he  started  out  of  a  tortured  dream 
and  sat  up.  The  sun  was  high  in  the  north,  rushing,  as 
it  seemed  to  his  bewildered  eyes,  madly  across  the  sky, 
a  mere  disc  of  burnished  copper,  now  deepening  into 
bronze,  now  flashing  into  a  brazen  glare  through  the 
scurrying  cloud,  but  unutterably  strange  and  unnatural. 
Before  he  had  fully  gained  his  startled  senses,  he  was  on 
his  feet  and  had  crossed  himself  a  dozen  times,  only  to 
grin  blankly  at  his  own  consternation.  Another  instant 
revealed  the  real  peril,  grave  enough.  The  flames  seemed 
leaping  from  the  roofs  across  the  street,  and  the  sinister 
roar  and  crackle  were  terribly  distinct.  Cristoval  crossed 
himself  again,  took  up  sword  and  buckler,  and  ran  to  the 
door.  The  roofs  opposite  were  untouched,  but  their  im 
munity  would  be  short.  The  crossing  where  the  sentinels 
had  stood  was  vacant.  A  glance  in  the  opposite  direction 
promptly  dashed  his  hope.  The  street  partly  cleared  of 
smoke  for  a  moment,  and  at  its  foot  were  cannoneers  and 
one  of  Candia's  guns  covering  the  bridge  across  the  Tulla- 
mayu.  They  were  looking  alertly  toward  the  suburbs, 
and  one  held  a  lighted  match.  Cristoval  rushed  to  the 
door  in  the  rear.  A  survey  from  the  end  of  the  passage 
was  sufficient.  At  the  first  corner  to  the  south  was  a 
cluster  of  pikemen,  evidently  part  of  a  column  which 


IN    THE   BURNING    PALACE  379 

occupied  the  cross-street.  The  prisoner  slowly  regained 
his  concealment.  For  the  next  hour  he  gloomily  watched 
the  fire,  until,  convinced  by  the  rate  of  its  approach  that 
it  was  farther  away  than  he  had  thought,  he  dozed  again. 
While  he  slept,  the  wind  shifted  to  the  north. 

Sometime  in  the  afternoon  —  late,  it  seemed  from  the 
uncertain  light  —  he  was  awakened  by  the  report  of  a  fal 
conet,  and  smiled  grimly.  "  The  Inca's  forces  are  at 
tacking,"  he  muttered.  "  May  no  man  of  them  fail  to 
duck  in  time  —  and  may  they  come  this  far!  It  would  — 
Mother  of  God!" 

A  crackling  sound,  heard  vaguely,  had  started  him 
to  his  feet.  He  struck  aside  the  foliage.  There  was  no 
sky !  —  only  a  flying  mass  of  gray  and  white,  near  enough, 
it  looked,  to  be  touched  with  his  hand.  The  palace  was 
afire.  At  a  bound  he  was  clear  of  the  shrubbery.  The 
roof  over  the  entrance  was  a  solid  flame.  While  he  stood, 
transfixed,  it  swept  forward  right  and  left  with  the  speed 
of  wind.  He  dashed  through  a  shower  of  fire  to  the  doors. 
The  building  opposite  was  a  furnace.  "  Bang ! "  snapped 
the  falconet  at  the  foot  of  the  street. 

He  rushed  to  the  rear,  racing  with  the  flames  roaring 
along  the  roofs  on  both  sides  of  the  court,  and  reached  the 
passage,  now  full  of  smoke.  From  its  mouth  he  saw  the 
pikemen  looking  toward  him  at  the  fire.  Should  he  ven 
ture  a  dash  to  cut  through  their  lines?  Hopeless,  hopeless ! 
But  to  be  burned  alive!  Yet  the  main  court  was  broad. 
Would  he  not  be  out  of  reach  of  the  flames  in  its  centre? 
It  was  the  one  chance.  A  flash  of  fire  overhead  drove 
him  back  into  the  palace.  The  passages  and  rooms  were 
dense  and  stifling,  and  once  he  lost  his  way;  found  it 
again,  and  crept  the  rest  of  the  distance  to  the  court  on  his 
hands  and  knees ;  reached  it,  blind,  and  half  stupefied. 

Gasping  and  choking,  he  dragged  himself  to  the 
shrubbery,  only  half  conscious  of  the  leaping,  blazing 


38o  THE   CRIMSON    CONQUEST 

tumult  surrounding  him.  The  entrance  had  disappeared, 
curtained  by  burning  thatch  fallen  from  the  eaves.  The 
air  was  growing  hot,  and  the  open  doorways  which  before 
had  been  obscure,  now  showed  a  dull  illumination.  For 
a  few  minutes  the  atmosphere  was  fairly  free  to  breathe, 
but  as  the  roof  timbers  began  to  give  way  the  rooms 
filled  with  burning  straw  from  above,  and  great  spurts 
and  volumes  of  smoke  rolled  into  the  court  from  the 
doors  and  windows. 

Cristoval  lay  with  face  pressed  to  the  earth  for  its 
coolness  and  the  stratum  of  purer  air.  Overhead  the  leaves 
were  shrivelling  and  drooping.  Burning  wisps  of  thatch, 
then  sheaves  and  armfuls,  were  soaring  upward  in  the 
blast  and  strewing  the  ground  about  him.  He  was  pro 
tected  by  his  armor,  but  in  danger  of  suffocation,  and  his 
breathing  grew  momentarily  more  labored,  until  every 
inspiration  was  like  a  draught  of  fire  itself. 

Cristoval  was  coughing  and  breathing  stertorously, 
sweating  in  his  mail.  Nothing  was  visible  now  but  the 
hot,  white  shroud  through  which  the  nearest  shrubs 
showed  like  dim  skeletons.  Strangely,  at  times  they  were 
all  in  motion,  going  round  and  round;  vanishing  for  mo 
ments,  to  reappear  slowly  and  resume  their  wavering 
reel.  He  wondered  at  it  very  little,  occupied  mostly  with 
the  effort  to  breathe,  the  pain  of  it,  and  the  torture  of  the 
heat.  He  had  ceased  to  think,  connectedly,  of  anything; 
but  a  series  of  rapidly  moving  pictures  traversed  his  brain, 
chiefly  of  Rava  and  Xilcala,  with  others  interspersed,  of 
no  relevancy.  His  head  was  aching,  and  singing  wildly 
—  or,  was  it  the  whistling  of  wind  through  a  ship's  rig 
ging?  It  was  that,  for  he  felt  the  roll  and  plunge. 
Madrel — dreaming!  He  saw  Pedro,  then  Father  Tendilla, 
then  Rogelio.  Something  was  burrowing  beneath  his 
chest,  squeaking  pitifully,  and  roused  him.  A  coy  — 
guinea  pig!  Another  scurried  past,  and  languidly  he 


IN    THE    BURNING   PALACE  381 

wondered  whither.  Toward  the  fountain!  Jesu I  At 
once  his  mind  cleared.  Why  had  he  not  thought  of  it 
before?  He  began  crawling  toward  the  water,  reani 
mated  by  hope  which,  but  now,  had  gone.  Slowly,  for  his 
way  was  strewn  with  fire,  and  his  steel  of  crushing  weight. 
Miles  away,  the  pool;  hardly  to  be  attained,  but  reached 
at  last,  and  he  rolled  in  at  full  length. 

The  shock  revived  him,  but  before  he  could  struggle 
to  his  knees  he  thought  he  must  drown.  Once  upright, 
he  found  the  air  cooler  and  far  less  stifling.  As  he  knelt, 
the  water  came  to  his  breast,  and  now  he  was  safe  at  least 
from  being  burned  to  death,  if  not  from  asphyxiation.  It 
was  minutes  before  his  thoughts  became  connected,  and 
then  he  saw  the  coys  cowering  on  the  steps  in  front  of 
him. 

Beyond  the  rim  of  the  pool  nothing  could  be  seen  for 
the  smoke.  On  every  side  was  the  roar  of  the  burning 
and  the  muffled  crash  of  falling  beams.  The  air  was  full 
of  dropping  brands,  spitting  and  hissing  as  they  touched 
the  water,  or  starting  frenzied  squeaks  when  they  fell 
upon  the  rodents.  Moved  by  their  common  suffering  with 
himself,  he  dashed  water  over  them  with  his  hands,  only 
half  sensible  of  the  mercy  of  the  impulse. 

The  smoke  thickened  from  minute  to  minute,  and  the 
heat,  even  in  the  pool,  grew  maddening;  but  by  frequent 
immersions  of  his  head  and  face  he  retained  his  senses, 
wondering  in  a  stupid,  dreamy  way,  how  long  he  could 
endure. 

At  last,  daylight  was  waning.  The  thatch  had  burned 
out  by  this,  and  the  smoke  become  less  dense,  permitting 
occasional  glimpses  of  the  flames  still  tossing  about  him. 
He  was  growing  chilled  and  stiffened  by  long  immersion, 
and  rose  to  his  feet  from  time  to  time,  first  dropping  his 
visor  to  protect  his  face.  Through  the  obscurity  he  could 
see  the  dull  red  of  the  doorways,  and  the  walls  with  their 


382  THE   CRIMSON    CONQUEST 

topping  of  fire,  but  as  evening  came  on  the  heat  grew  less 
intense,  and  he  found  that  he  could  stand,  dipping  at  inter 
vals  to  cool  his  armor. 

Night  fell  and  grew  late.  The  worst  of  the  fire 
had  passed  to  the  southward.  Around  him  the  flames 
barely  reached  above  the  blackened  walls,  though  the 
glare  from  the  doors  revealed  the  desolation  of  the 
court.  It  was  hideous  and  infernal,  and  he  was  seized 
with  a  frantic  longing  to  be  away  from  its  horror, 
but  hours  dragged  before  he  could  even  quit  the  pool. 
Slowly,  however,  the  fire  subsided,  and  he  mounted  the 
steps  unheeded  by  his  fellow  refugees.  Now  he  could 
see  the  entrance,  with  fragments  of  the  doors  hang 
ing  to  the  hinges  and  still  feebly  burning.  He  would 
attempt  it. 

He  found  his  sword  and  shield,  among  the  leafless 
stalks  of  the  bushes,  and  after  a  final  plunge  in  the  pool, 
left  the  court.  Filling  his  lungs,  he  bolted  through  the 
door  and  into  the  street.  It  was  full  of  embers,  starting 
into  flame  and  swirled  about  by  eddies  of  hot  wind. 
He  could  see  but  a  short  distance  ahead,  but  with  a 
hurried  prayer  he  dashed  forward  through  the  stifling 
heat.  The  end  of  the  street  was  not  far,  but  before  he 
had  reached  it  his  feet  and  legs  were  blistered.  In  his 
struggles  for  breath,  and  in  the  dread  doubt  whether  he 
would  attain  his  goal,  he  hardly  felt  the  pain,  but  rushed 
blindly  on,  ploughing  up  a  spray  of  fire  in  his  passage. 
At  length,  the  foot  of  the  street,  and  he  staggered 
into  the  open,  across  the  quay,  and  down  the  steps  to 
the  stream. 

At  the  farther  end  of  the  bridge  was  the  falconet  with 
its  gunners.  The  fire  had  not  crossed  the  rivulet,  but  the 
heat  had  driven  them  to  the  opposite  side.  One  of  the 
cannoneers  beheld  Cristoval  rushing  through  the  fiery 
dusk  of  the  street,  and  his  affrighted  exclamation  drew  the 


IN   THE   BURNING   PALACE  383 

attention  of  his  mates.  They  saw  the  arch-fiend,  clad  in 
red-hot  steel,  with  blazing  eyes,  and  brandishing  a  sword 
of  flame,  charging  toward  them  through  a  burst  of  fire. 
There  was  one  gasping  yell,  and  they  fled  into  the 
darkness. 


CHAPTER  XXXV 
The  Lurking  Morisco 

DURING  the  half-hour  it  took  the  sergeant  com 
manding  the  gun  to  reassemble  his  panic-stricken 
cannoneers,  Cristoval  was  passing  slowly  down 
the  Tullamayu,   secure  in  its  shadows.     In  his 
thankfulness  for  escape  from  death  his  scorched  feet  and 
legs  seemed  naught,  and  he  was  eager  only  to  pass  the 
fire  ahead,  cross  the  city  to  the  other  stream,  and  find  the 
Amarucancha.     To  find  the  Amarucancha;    for   not  an 
instant   did  his  purpose  flag,   nor  would  while   he  had 
strength  to  creep. 

He  reached  the  point  where  the  stream  is  bridged  by 
the  Rimac  Pampa,  climbed  a  stairway,  and  found  himself 
at  the  edge  of  that  square.  The  entire  district  south  and 
east  had  burned  the  night  before,  and  the  ruins  were  still 
smouldering,  with  small  fires  here  and  there  in  the  debris 
lighting  up  the  plaza,  but  rendering  its  greater  extent  the 
more  obscure.  To  the  north-east,  the  suburbs  of  Toco 
Cachi  and  Munay  Cenca  were  burning  fiercely,  but  the 
advance  of  the  conflagration  thence  had  been  retarded  by 
the  wind,  so  that  between  the  burning  zone  and  the  Tul 
lamayu  lay  an  area  yet  untouched,  while  the  fire  which 
had  swept  over  him  was  now  in  the  rear.  In  the  west  was 
a  huge,  roseate  bank  of  smoke,  rolling  upward  in  colossal 
and  endless  transformation.  Overhead  were  fragments  of 
sky,  densely  black,  with  sickly  stars  briefly  seen,  then 
extinguished  by  the  pallid  fleece  whirled  and  driven  by 


THE   LURKING   MORISCO  385 

the  wind.  Everywhere  above  the  horizon,  a  stupendous 
activity  impressive  in  its  silence. 

Cristoval  turned  from  it  oppressed,  to  listen  and  recon 
noitre  before  venturing  from  shelter.  About  him,  gloom 
and  stillness  profound,  the  desolation  of  vacant  streets, 
the  mournfulness  of  abandonment;  and  over  all,  a  wan, 
unnatural  twilight.  He  felt  the  weight  of  loneliness  and 
a  vague  dread  of  the  shadowy  thoroughfares  and  sombre 
buildings.  He  shook  it  off  with  resolution,  and  stole  out 
into  the  street.  Not  far  ahead  an  intersecting  way  ad 
mitted  a  narrow  illumination  from  the  north.  He  was 
within  fifty  paces  of  this  when  a  dim  figure  crossed  the 
light  and  vanished  in  the  darkness  beyond.  It  appeared 
and  disappeared  so  quickly  and  silently  that  he  was  un 
certain  lest  he  had  been  deceived  by  a  swirl  of  smoke.  He 
paused  uneasily,  unresolved  whether  to  advance  or  go 
back.  "  No  Spaniard,  that,"  he  reflected,  "  and  cferto, 
not  a  sentinel!  A  mere  rag  of  a  figure  —  if  not  a  rag  of 
mine  imagination.  But  what  an  unholy,  shivery  manner 
of  gait !  —  a  flit,  and  't  was  gone.  Murder !  I  had  liefer 
seen  a  pikeman."  He  stood  for  a  moment  peering  and 
hearkening,  then  advanced  with  drawn  sword. 

Arriving  at  the  strip  of  light,  he  crossed  it  hastily,  and 
halted  by  the  wall.  Farther  up  the  street  was  another 
lighted  spot,  and  he  watched  it  with  vigilance.  Again  the 
form,  seen  for  an  instant,  and  lost  in  the  gloom.  Now, 
Cristoval's  courage  was  proof  as  his  own  mail  against 
tangible  danger,  but  volatile  as  ether  before  the  uncanny 
or  mysterious.  The  fleeting  form  was  both.  The  cavalier 
was  daunted,  and  admitted  it  to  himself.  But  he  braced 
himself  with  a  sign  of  the  cross  and  stole  forward.  "  After 
all,"  he  muttered,  "  belike  't  is  naught  but  some  poor  devil 
of  a  native,  burned  out  and  homeless.  But  the  fiend  take 
a  man  who  moveth  with  so  ghastly  locomotion!  Neither 
a  walk,  trot,  nor  canter.  Anyway,  he  seemeth  to  have  as 


386  THE   CRIMSON    CONQUEST 

little  appetite  for  me  as  I  for  him,  and  man  or  spook,  I  '11 
not  crowd  him,  I  swear  it*" 

At  the  next  corner  he  halted,  inspecting  the  dimly 
lighted  street  for  signs  of  soldiery,  but  no  living  being 
moved.  The  spectre-like  stranger  had  vanished.  While 
the  cavalier  stood,  he  heard  distant  cavalry.  It  was  whole 
some  and  earthly  at  least;  and  although  it  called  for  cau 
tion,  yet  it  was  in  some  sort  reassuring,  and  he  went  on 
in  greater  ease  of  mind.  A  few  minutes  later  he  entered 
another  square  flanked  on  the  left  by  a  large  edifice  recog 
nizable  by  the  glow  on  its  gilded  roof  as  the  Temple  of  the 
Sun.  He  had  his  bearings,  and  knew  that  the  Huatenay 
was  not  far  beyond.  The  plaza  was  the  ancient  Cori- 
cancha,  or  Place  of  Gold. 

Half-way  across  he  heard  horses  once  more,  approach 
ing,  and  not  distant.  The  great  door  of  the  temple  stood 
open.  He  hurried  to  its  shelter  as  a  patrol  of  cavalry 
trotted  into  the  square.  They  were  coming  in  his  direc 
tion,  and  he  entered  the  building.  The  darkness  was 
absolute,  but  opposite  was  another  door,  faintly  lighted 
by  the  reflection  from  the  heavens.  He  stole  toward  it 
with  reluctance,  awed  by  the  vastness  of  the  hall,  whose 
walls  sent  back  sepulchral  echoes  of  his  furtive  tread. 
High  up  indistinctly  outlined  windows  revealed  the  lofti 
ness  of  the  interior,  which  seemed  to  be  unceiled.  The 
place  was  lugubrious,  as  if  tenanted  by  ghosts  of  votaries 
of  the  ancient  faith,  mourning  its  desecration.  So  thought 
Cristoval,  and  hastened  his  steps  —  then  stopped.  There 
had  been  a  movement  in  the  doorway  in  front  of  him: 
a  mere  blur,  and  gone,  noiseless  as  a  shadow.  There  was 
a  trickling  chilliness  under  his  back-plate,  and  again  he 
made  a  sign  of  the  cross.  The  place  was  unholy  — 
accursed  by  pagan  rites.  He  must  out  of  it !  Should  it  be 
to  face  the  patrol,  or  —  the  other?  The  open  air  of  the 
court  was  nearer,  and  he  quickened  his  pace  to  gain  it, 


THE   LURKING   MORISCO  387 

assailed  by  a  multitude  of  whispered  reverberations; 
chased,  as  he  knew,  by  devils,  spooks,  goblins,  and 
lemures-. 

In  the  court,  he  was  sweating,  but  cold.  It  was  bare, 
ghostly,  and  surrounded  by  buildings  with  broad,  open 
doors  into  which  he  did  not  look  as  he  sped  across  toward 
a  gate  that  stood  ajar.  Outside,  he  breathed  more  freely. 
He  was  in  a  garden  with  trees  and  shrubbery,  and  these, 
even  in  the  dark,  are  always  friendly.  There  were  avenues, 
but  the  ground  had  been  upturned  by  his  countrymen  for 
buried  treasure,  and  he  could  follow  none.  He  turned 
across  what  had  been  a  lawn,  descending  from  terrace  'to 
terrace,  burdened  by  the  sense  of  being  watched  by  the 
lurking  stranger ;  nor  paused  until  he  had  placed  distance 
between  himself  and  the  unhallowed  temple.  Now  he 
could  hear  the  ripple  of  a  stream,  and  knew  that  he  was 
at  the  Huatenay;  but  kept  on,  looking  for  a  stout  bush 
he  could  have  at  his  back,  and  with  a  vigilant  outlook  for 
the  other  tenant  of  the  garden.  He  was  now  fully  aware 
of  his  burns,  but  dared  not  remove  a  jambe  to  ease  them. 
He  seated  himself  presently,  but  after  a  minute's  rest  the 
sensation  of  being  under  espionage  became  unendurable. 
It  chafed  him,  and  with  the  irritation  of  his  burning  feet 
and  legs,  roused  a  bloodthirsty  desire  to  hunt  the  lurker 
and  determine  whether  he  was  substance  or  shadow.  He 
thought  better  of  it. 

A  few  minutes,  now,  would  bring  him  to  the  Amaru- 
cancha,  and  impatience  pushed  him  on.  He  had  gained 
the  lowest  terrace  when  the  mysterious  form  appeared 
again,  directly  in  his  path,  a  hundred  feet  away.  It  rose 
as  if  out  of  the  earth,  retreated  a  few  paces,  and  vanished 
into  the  shadow  of  the  gully,  leaving  Cristoval  in  dismay. 

"Santa  Madrel"  he  gasped,  and  stood  irresolute,  wish 
ing  with  ardor  for  a  crucifix.  The  figure  was  so  wholly 
spectral  that  the  thought  of  following  it  into  the  darkness 


388  THE    CRIMSON    CONQUEST 

started  his  courage  oozing  as  quickly  as  it  did  the  per 
spiration.  Yet  there  was  no  help  for  it  unless  to  return 
through  the  temple.  The  stout  cavalier  was  in  a  wavering 
frame  of  mind.  Then  it  stole  over  him  that  this  shadowy 
creature  was  interposing  between  him  and  Rava.  He 
sprang  down  the  bank  with  an  oath.  Were  it  Satan  him 
self  he  would  dispute  such  hindrance. 

He  stumbled  among  the  bowlders,  straining  his  eyes 
for  a  sight  of  the  figure,  furious  to  test  its  reality.  But  he 
plunged  forward  resolutely.  Above  the  temple  he  came 
to  a  stairway  leading  to  the  quay,  and  mounted  it,  intend 
ing,  if  the  streets  were  quiet,  to  leave  the  stream.  As  he 
raised  head  and  shoulders  above  the  parapet,  an  arrow, 
coming  with  terrific  force,  struck  the  bars  of  his  lifted 
visor  and  splintered  with  a  crash  that  made  his  ears  ring 
within  his  helmet.  At  the  same  instant  the  figure  rose 
a  few  yards  ahead  and  sped  away  through  the  darkness. 
Notwithstanding  the  shock,  Cristoval's  dread  vanished  in 
a  flash.  "  Aha !  thou  flitting,  gliding,  misty  son  of  an  imp 
of  perdition,  then  thou  'rt  real ! "  He  dropped  his  visor. 
"  By  the  saints !  't  is  a  burden  off  my  mind.  I  thought  thee 
a  ghost,  but  that  was  no  ghostly  arrow,  my  word  for  it! 
And  't  was  good  archery.  Bien  I  I  '11  keep  thee  in  mind 
until  I  can  teach  thee  thou  'rt  shooting  at  a  friend."  Con 
vinced  now  that  the  stranger  was  a  native  bent  on  venge 
ance  on  his  own  account,  Cristoval  descended  again  and 
pushed  on  up  the  stream,  infinitely  relieved  in  spirit.  But 
thereafter  he  kept  his  visor  closed. 

At  length  the  black  buildings  on  either  bank  came  to 
an  end  at  the  great  square,  and  with  beating  heart  the 
cavalier  recognized  the  pile  on  the  right  as  the  Amaru- 
cancha.  He  crept  cautiously  up  the  steps  by  which  the 
Inca  and  Mayta  had  descended  on  the  night  of  their  at 
tempted  escape.  Here  he  could  look  out  upon  the  plaza, 
so  near  that  he  heard  the  Spaniards'  voices.  The  fire  had 


THE   LURKING   MORISCO  389 

eaten  from  the  direction  of  the  Sachsahuaman  to  its  mar 
gin,  and  like  the  Rimac  Pampa,  it  was  partly  illuminated 
by  burning  ruins.  In  the  middle  were  awnings  and  tents 
occupied  by  his  beleaguered  countrymen.  Near  the  camp 
was  the  picket  line  with  the  steeds  saddled,  and  in  front 
of  it,  a  detachment  standing  to  horse,  ready  for  instant 
action.  Cristoval  took  it  in  at  a  glance,  then  his  eyes 
sought  the  palace  before  him.  Immediately  opposite  was 
a  door.  Would  it  be  locked?  Locked,  no  doubt!  — and 
would  he  dare  to  knock?  First  he  would  try  its  fastenings. 

Cristoval  was  shaking  at  the  knees,  and  so  intent  that 
he  had  forgotten  prudence.  He  was  about  to  steal  across 
the  quay  when  he  was  arrested  by  the  tread  of  an  approach 
ing  sentinel.  The  cavalier  retreated  down  the  steps  with 
a  flash  of  sudden  heat  over  his  body.  Ten  thousand  devils ! 
Here  was  a  condition  unforeseen.  Standing  in  the  water 
and  leaning  against  the  shadowed  wall,  he  thought  with 
diligence  and  many  whispered  interjections.  With  the 
square  so  near  he  could  not  overcome  the  sentinel  without 
an  alarm.  The  attempt  might  serve  as  a  last  resort ;  but 
he  put  it  aside  to  debate  a  hundred  impracticabilities. 
After  a  time  he  crept  up  the  steps  again  and  stole  a  look 
at  the  soldier.  The  latter  was  keeping  close  to  the  palace 
wall,  and  for  a  pikeman  his  vigilance  seemed  preternatural. 
Had  he  divined  his  surveillance  by  a  pair  of  watchful  eyes 
in  a  head  simmering  with  plans  for  his  quick  extinction! 
—  but  he  had  not.  He  paced  so  many  paces  to  the  south, 
turned  with  a  glance  at  the  sky;  paced  so  many  more  to 
the  north,  turned  with  a  glance  at  the  sky;  and  so  for  an 
hour,  when  he  challenged  the  relief. 

Meanwhile,  Cristoval  descended  and  stood  meditating 
furiously.  Assuredly  the  chance  for  entrance  here  was 
slight.  He  picked  his  way  carefully  down  the  stream, 
ascended  by  the  first  flight  of  steps  to  the  opposite  bank, 
and  started  toward  the  square  in  the  shadow  of  the 


390  THE   CRIMSON    CONQUEST 

buildings.  At  its  edge  he  descried  another  sentinel,  and 
turned  back.  At  a  bridge  passed  going  up,  he  crossed 
the  rivulet.  At  the  farther  side  he  glanced  back  up  the 
street  toward  the  western  line  of  fire,  now  sweeping 
rapidly  forward,  and  once  more  caught  sight  of  the  flit 
ting  figure  crossing  the  light,  slinking  toward  the  plaza, 
but  lost  at  once  in  the  darkness.  "  Aha !  my  friend," 
muttered  Cristoval,  "  thou  'rt  off  the  scent.  Keep  off  it, 
thou  heathen,  or  I  may  warm  thy  legs  with  the  flat  of  my 
blade." 

He  moved  up  the  quay  with  a  slight  hope  of  finding 
an  unguarded  door  into  the  palace.  Twenty  paces  more 
and  he  was  startled  by  a  long-drawn  yell  of  agony  from 
the  direction  of  the  square.  The  stranger  had  attacked  a 
sentinel.  "Holy  Mother!"  he  exclaimed,  "the  skulking 
archer  hath  scored." 

The  whispered  words  had  not  been  said  before  a 
second  cry  arose,  fiercely  exultant,  "Allah  il Allah!"  Cris 
toval  started  at  the  words,  and  crossed  himself. 

The  cry  was  answered  by  a  shout  and  a  rush  of  sol 
diers.  Cristoval  glanced  about  for  a  stairway  to  descend 
to  the  stream.  None  at  hand,  and  no  time  to  search. 
He  dropped  his  buckler  over  the  parapet,  lowered  him 
self  by  his  hands,  and  let  go.  An  instant  to  regain  his 
shield,  and  he  fled  down  the  rocky  bottom  as  a  platoon 
galloped  along  the  edge  of  the  square,  divided  at  the 
quay,  and  a  party  clattered  toward  him,  following  the 
bank  on  his  right.  It  divided  again  at  the  first  street, 
but  as  he  blundered  on  through  the  darkness  a  squad 
passed  him,  going  down  the  stream.  The  square  was  in 
an  uproar. 

Far  off  somewhere  Cristoval  heard  the  cry  again, 
" Allah  il  Allah  /"  and  stopped.  "  Jose,  as  I  'm  a  Christian !  " 
He  reached  the  temple  garden,  blown  by  the  flight,  and 
threw  himself  upon  the  bank,  nearer  despair  than  he  had 


THE    LURKING    MORISCO  391 

been  since  entering  the  city.  Only  a  miracle  would  admit 
him  to  the  Amarucancha. 

He  lay  for  an  hour  listening  to  the  patrols,  now  near, 
now  far,  before  he  rose  heavily  and  looked  about.  It  was 
necessary  to  seek  a  shelter  for  the  coming  day ;  but  where 
he  should  find  security  at  once  from  the  fire,  from  Span 
iards,  and  from  the  equally  hostile  Morisco,  was  a  question 
which  taxed  him  to  answer.  He  now  had  a  wholesome 
dread  of  buildings,  and  finally  decided  upon  the  garden 
itself,  whose  thickets  would  afford  concealment  against 
any  but  a  systematic  search. 

He  found  a  coppice  on  one  of  the  upper  terraces ;  and 
having  removed  his  jambes  and  sollerets,  bandaged  his 
blistered  feet  with  his  torn-up  kerchief,  and  crawled  into 
the  liar.  Physically  tortured  by  burns,  mentally  by 
anxiety,  he  lay  broad  awake  until  after  sunrise,  watching 
the  advancing  fire,  laboring  with  the  problem  before  him, 
and  wondering  at  the  presence  and  hostility  of  Jose. 

It  was  late  in  the  day  when  he  awoke  and  looked  out. 
A  strong  westerly  wind  was  blowing,  and  he  saw  at  once 
that  the  conflagration  was  making  rapid  headway  toward 
the  quarter  of  the  palaces.  Would  reach  it  by  nightfall, 
if  not  before.  He  groaned  at  his  helplessness,  forgot  his 
pain,  forgot  the  hunger  and  thirst  now  assailing  him,  and 
lay  the  day  through,  feverishly  watching  the  progress  of 
destruction. 

The  hours  dragged.  The  air  was  hot,  dry,  and  sting 
ing  with  the  reek  of  burning.  His  throat  was  parched,  his 
lips  split  and  bleeding,  and  his  face,  from  the  heat  in  the 
palace,  was  raw  and  so  badly  swollen  that  his  eyes  were 
almost  closed.  His  burns  were  maddening.  But  all  his 
torture  of  body  was  a  trifle,  was  nothing,  to  the  agony  of 
beholding  the  inexorable  approach  of  the  fire  to  the 
Amarucancha. 

By  evening  he  was  feverish,  and  lay  reenacting  every 


392  THE    CRIMSON    CONQUEST 

minute  circumstance  of  the  preceding  day  and  nights; 
went  through  new  struggles  quite  as  real  and  of  worse 
torment;  and  suffered  horrors  unspeakable. 

When  night  fell  he  awoke  bewildered,  unable  for  a 
time  to  untangle  the  actual  from  his  delirium,  and  lay 
staring  at  the  ruddy  light,  straining  to  comprehend  its 
meaning.  It  came  like  a  flash,  and  he  sat  up,  groping  for 
his  arms.  Greaved  and  shod,  he  staggered  out,  aching  and 
giddy.  His  first  glance  was  toward  the  north.  —  God  of 
Heaven!  The  Amarucancha!  The  fire  had  crossed  the 
stream ! 

The  temple  loomed  black  against  an  appalling  back 
ground  of  flame.  He  reeled  and  went  upon  his  knees, 
weak  with  fear;  was  up  and  rushing  forward,  crashing 
through  shrubbery,  colliding  blindly  with  tree-trunk  and 
branch,  until  he  reached  the  court;  across  it,  and  into  the 
hall  of  the  temple,  its  ghostly  terrors  forgotten.  Through 
the  entrance  streamed  a  broad  light  from  the  Coricancha. 
The  centre  of  the  city  was  a  vast  furnace,  a  hell,  with 
flames  leaping  and  whirling  with  the  roar  of  breaking  surf. 

The  long  night  which  followed  seemed  as  unreal  in 
its  horror  as  his  delirium.  Cristoval  went  fire-mad. 

When  he  came  to  his  senses,  hours  later,  it  was  as  if 
awakening  from  a  hideous  dream.  He  had  indistinct 
memories  of  insane  dashes  into  flame-swept  streets,  be 
neath  infernal,  incandescent  canopies,  past  doorways 
belching  red-hot  blasts;  of  terrible  repulse  and  flights  for 
life ;  of  renewed  attempts,  and  bewilderment  in  fiery  laby 
rinths  whence  escape  seemed  impossible;  of  weeping, 
laughing,  and  shouting  frantically  for  Rava  while  he  bat 
tled;  of  a  long  detour,  later,  through  dark,  fuliginous 
thoroughfares,  hot  and  stifling  as  ovens ;  of  finding  himself 
wallowing  in  a  stream,  drinking  and  praying;  and  at  last, 
of  bursting  from  the  darkness  upon  a  squad  of  startled 
soldiers  and  of  fighting  with  the  fury  of  a  maniac.  How  he 


THE   LURKING    MORISCO  393 

escaped  he  knew  not;  but  while  he  fought,  welcoming 
wounds  that  seemed  to  ease  his  burns,  he  heard  again  the 
shrill,  weird  cry,  "  Allah  il  Allah  I "  saw  a  pikeman  fall  with 
an  arrow  in  his  brain,  then  another  and  another;  and  fled 
alone,  unpursued. 

After  this,  dim  wanderings  through  a  Cimmerian 
wilderness  of  streets,  black,  desolate,  stinking  of  dead 
embers,  and  of  eternal  length  and  intricacy,  but  cool.  At 
last  he  heard  a  fountain;  staggered  into  a  ruined  patio, 
drank  deep,  and  dropped  into  the  nearest  corner,  asleep 
in  an  instant. 

High  noon  roused  him  to  consciousness  of  suffering. 
His  swollen  eyes  would  hardly  open,  and  as  he  moved  and 
groaned  he  heard  a  voice  beside  him:  — 

"Allah  akbar I  I  thought  thou  wouldst  sleep  to  thy 
death.  Holal  Canst  see,  Cristoval?  Dost  know  me?" 

Cristoval's  smarting  eyes  came  open  with  a  start,  and 
he  stared  up  at  a  lank  figure  in  burnoose  and  turban,  bend 
ing  over  him.  "  Jose ! "  he  exclaimed,  thickly,  his  lips 
cracking  with  the  effort,  and  he  sat  up,  feeling  for  his 
sword. 

"  No  need  for  that,  my  friend ! "  said  the  old  armorer. 
"  But  look  thou,  Cristoval :  call  me  not  Jose.  A  curse  be 
upon  the  name!  I  am  Abul  Hassan  Zegri.  Be  thankful 
that  't  is  Abul  Hassan  Zegri,  and  not  one  of  thy  country 
men.  What,  Cristoval!  Dost  doubt  me?  Man,  had  it 
been  my  purpose  to  do  thee  harm,  I  would  have  saved  thee 
the  trouble  of  awakening !  " 

Cristoval  regarded  him  distrustfully  a  moment,  and 
offered  his  hand.  He  was  in  a  roofless,  blackened  apart 
ment,  off  the  court  he  had  entered  in  search  of  water. 
The  armorer  had  dragged  him  from  the  fountain  into 
better  concealment. 

"Canst  drink?"  asked  Abul  Hassan,  tendering  a 
smoke-stained  vessel. 


394  THE    CRIMSON    CONQUEST 

The  cavalier  drank  with  avidity,  nodding  his  thanks. 
Never  a  draught  more  delicious;  never  a  drinker  more 
grateful.  The  Morisco  watched  him  in  glum  silence, 
brought  more  water,  and  more,  and  still  not  enough. 
"  Ho !  Let  that  suffice,  Cristoval,"  he  said,  at  length. 

Cristoval  groaned,  but  yielded.  "  Madre  /"  he  mum 
bled,  conscious  of  his  weakness,  "  what  aileth  me?  " 

"What  aileth  thee!  Thou 'rt  a  fool  — a  madcap," 
replied  the  Morisco,  bluntly.  "  What  hare-brained  motive 
hath  possessed  thee,  Cristoval?  For  two  nights  and  a  day 
I  've  seen  thee  in  the  city,  careering  like  a  santon  pursued 
of  devils." 

"PorDios!"  growled  Cristoval;  "  thou  wast  not  far 
from  putting  an  estoppel  upon  it,  Abul  Hassan." 

"When  I  split  an  arrow  on  thy  casque?  I  did  not 
know  thee,  Cristoval,  save  as  a  Spaniard  —  and  thou  hadst 
followed  me.  For  what  purpose?  " 

"  I  was  not  in  purpose  to  follow  thee.  It  was  a 
chance." 

"  Then  it  might  have  been  a  costly  chance,  for  I  had 
it  in  mind  to  kill  thee,  until  I  found  thee  killing  pikemen. 
What  dost  seek  in  Cuzco?  " 

"  The  Nusta  Rava." 

"  Ah !  "  Abul  Hassan  studied  him  narrowly,  then 
asked,  "Hast  friends  outside,  among  the  Indies?"  Cris 
toval  nodded. 

"  As  soon  as  thou  canst  move  we  '11  seek  them,"  said 
the  other. 

The  cavalier  shook  his  head.  "  I  must  find  the  Nusta 
Rava,"  he  answered,  with  resolution. 

"Galimatias!  Bosh!  Thou 'It  find  the  garrote.  Dost 
know  how  long  thou  hast  lain  thus  among  these  cinders? 
This  is  the  second  day.  I  found  thee  yester  morning. 
But,  canst  eat?" 

The    Morisco   had   a   pouch   well    supplied,   and    the 


THE   LURKING   MORISCO  395 

cavalier  broke  his  long  fast.  He  wasted  no  time  in  words 
while  a  morsel  remained  of  his  prudent  allowance;  but  fin 
ished  and  refreshed,  he  asked,  "  And  thou,  Abul  Hassan, 
why  art  thou  in  Cuzco?  " 

"  I  am  here  to  be  near  mine  enemies." 

"  Thine  enemies !  " 

"  The  enemies  of  my  race,"  said  Abul  Hassan,  with 
a  quick  flash  in  his  eyes;  then,  regarding  the  cavalier 
steadily,  he  added,  with  increasing  energy,  "  and  of  my 
faith !  For,  hear  me,  Cristoval,  I  am  no  more  a  Christian ! 
I  am  a  follower  of  Mahomet  —  an  unworthy  Mussulman 
whom  Allah  hath  punished  for  his  apostasy ! " 

Cristoval  stared  at  him,  horrified,  and  crossed  him 
self.  At  the  gesture  the  old  man  spat  upon  the  ground  in 
sudden  rage. 

"  Ah !  The  Cross !  "  he  cried,  his  face  drawn  in  repug 
nance.  "  The  Cross !  The  sign  accursed !  The  sign  which 
hath  been  stamped  upon  every  atrocity  the  minds  of  fiends 
—  of  Christians  —  can  invent !  The  sign  under  which 
murder,  torture  of  body  and  soul,  wreck  of  hearts  and 
minds,  have  been  works  of  piety !  I  scorn  it,  spurn  it,  and 
hate  it  with  a  living  hatred !  "  He  spat  again  and  turned 
away,  his  gaunt  form  trembling  with  passion. 

Cristoval  had  gained  his  feet,  suspecting  a  madman. 
Abul  Hassan  controlled  himself,  and  faced  the  cavalier. 
"  Forget  the  words,  Cristoval  —  if  thou  canst.  I  would 
not  offend  thee,  but  —  I  have  suffered  much.  Behold  me, 
an  old  and  broken  man,  but  hunted,  hunted !  Once  I  had 
loved  ones  —  O,  Allah,  thy  wrath  is  hard  to  bear !  " 

He  bowed  his  head,  and  Cristoval  said  hastily :  "  Say 
no  more,  old  friend !  I  owe  thee  much,  and  thy  words  shall 
not  stand  between  us  —  nor  thy  faith,  for,  by  Heaven! 
I  Ve  known  other  gallant  men  who  were  not  Christians. 
Let  it  pass,  Abul  Hassan."  Cristoval  changed  the  subject, 
and  presently  the  Morisco  resumed  his  usual  composure. 


396  THE   CRIMSON    CONQUEST 

All  that  day  they  remained  in  hiding.  Food  and  rest 
restored  some  of  the  cavalier's  strength,  but  realizing  the 
futility  of  a  hope  to  accomplish  his  purpose  in  his  present 
condition  of  body,  he  agreed  reluctantly  to  the  wisdom  of 
leaving  the  city.  Late  in  the  evening  they  started,  but 
though  they  were  in  the  western  suburbs,  Cristoval  was 
so  crippled  by  his  burns  that  notwithstanding  his  com 
panion's  assistance  they  were  long  in  clearing  the  ruined 
outskirts.  In  the  open  country  at  last,  the  Morisco  left 
him  concealed  while  he  went  to  the  Peruvian  lines  for  help. 
He  returned  with  a  hamaca  and  bearers,  and  Cristoval  was 
borne  to  a  hamlet  among  the  foothills  on  the  western  mar 
gin  of  the  Bolson  of  Cuzco.  Here  they  found  simple 
medicaments,  and  when  Pedro  appeared,  two  days  later, 
he  found  his  friend  much  as  he  had  come  upon  him  in 
Xilcala. 

The  cook  stumped  into  the  cottage  without  a  word. 
Cristoval  was  lying,  smeared  to  his  eyes  in  grease,  with 
bandaged  limbs,  and  Pedro  looked  him  over  with  great 
severity. 

"  Well,  stew  me !  "  he  exclaimed,  with  bitterness.  "  If 
thou  'rt  not  done  brown,  Cristoval,  then  I  'm  no  cook  to 
judge !  Broiled  to  a  turn !  Roasted  with  a  crust !  —  and 
a  complexion  like  a  boiled  ham  in  the  summer  sun.  Dam 
nation,  man!  thou 'it  overdone,  dost  not  know  it?"  He 
paused,  regarded  the  cavalier  for  a  moment  with  increased 
sternness,  then  resumed  reproachfully :  "  Ah,  but  no ! 
Thou  hadst  no  need  for  Pedro,  an  experienced  cook  who 
would  have  taken  thee  out  in  time,  and  mayhap  saved  the 
gravy  —  but  must  go  and  cook  thyself,  like  a  bedeviled 
Phoenix !  "  He  paused  again,  and  Cristoval  smiled  slightly, 
waiting  for  the  storm  to  pass. 

"  Grin !  "  blurted  the  cook,  with  irritation.  "  Thou  'rt 
as  cheerful-looking  as  a  smoked  herring.  But  what  the 
fiend  dost  think  7  have  had  to  grin  about  these  several 


THE   LURKING   MORISCO  397 

days?    'T  is  the  second  time  I  've  mourned  for  thee  as  dead, 
and  twice  too  often !  " 

Cristoval  extended  a  bandaged  hand,  and  presently 
the  severity  faded  from  Pedro's  countenance.  He  touched 
the  hand,  swore  a  little,  and  seated  himself.  "  Well,  curse 
it !  I  'm  glad  to  see  thee  once  more,  Cristoval,  cooked  or 
raw.  But  I  tell  thee,  old  friend,  my  belt  hath  gone  loose 
from  worriment ! " 


CHAPTER  XXXVI 

The  Barricades 

THE  fire  had  burned  itself  out  and  left  two-thirds 
of  Cuzco  in  ruins  long  before  Cristoval  was  in 
condition  to  mount.  In  the  meantime,  it  had 
required  all  of  Pedro's  persuasion,  entreaty,  ex 
postulation,  and  threats,  to  keep  him  on  his  couch. 
Haunted  by  the  conflagration  and  visions  of  Rava  in  the 
perils  which  he  had  just  escaped,  he  taxed  the  cook's  abun 
dant  patience  to  extremity.  The  Spaniards'  daily  sorties 
were  inflicting  heavy  losses  upon  the  Inca's  devoted 
troops,  most  of  whom,  for  the  first  time  confronting  cav 
alry  and  firearms,  were  led  by  ignorance  into  useless 
sacrifice.  When  Pedro  brought  accounts  of  these  engage 
ments  the  cavalier  groaned  and  fumed,  fumed  and  groaned, 
and  at  last  declared  vehemently  that  he  would  lie  inactive 
no  longer.  The  brunt  of  his  unrest  fell  upon  Pedro,  for  the 
old  Morisco,  having  seen  him  in  good  hands,  had  stolen 
away  with  replenished  quiver,  to  lurk  among  the  ruins 
and  spread  death  and  terror  among  the  ancient  enemies  of 
Granada. 

One  day,  intelligence  came  that  the  Sachsahuaman 
had  been  stormed  by  the  Spaniards  and  taken.  Juan 
Pizarro  had  lost  his  life  leading  the  assault.  Mocho  and 
his  Antis  had  been  relieved  a  few  days  before,  and  Mayta, 
the  new  commander  of  the  fortress,  driven  with  a  remnant 
of  its  defenders  into  the  citadel,  and  seeing  that  the  place 
was  lost,  had  wrapped  himself  in  his  cloak  and  plunged 
from  the  battlements  to  death. 


THE   BARRICADES  399 

Pedro  brought  the  tidings,  —  a  double  sorrow  to  Cris- 
toval,  for  Juan  Pizarro  had  been  steadfastly  his  friend. 
The  cavalier  rose  abruptly.  "  Look  thou,  Pedro !  To 
morrow  I  ride.  These  poor  devils  of  Indies  are  throwing 
brave  lives  away  for  want  of  knowledge.  'T  is  as  if  they 
were  children  dashing  themselves  over  a  precipice  without 
warning.  They  know  not  even  where  a  Spaniard  is  vul 
nerable  in  his  armor.  Why,  man,  were  they  mine  enemies 
't  would  sicken  me  to  see  them  fight  at  such  hopeless  odds ! 
And  now,  with  Juan  dead,  Rava  will  be  more  than  ever 
in  danger.  I  go  to-morrow." 

Pedro  scrubbed  his  forehead  vigorously  and  growled : 
"  Cristoval,  thou  'rt  an  unringed  bull-calf,  and  I  'm  of  a 
notion  to  choke-pear  and  strait-jacket  thee.  What  canst 
do  in  thy  condition?  Thou  'rt  sore-footed  from  thy  burns, 
and  wilt  shed  thy  blisters  like  a  lizard  his  skin  before 
thou  'rt  in  the  saddle  an  hour.  Thou  'rt  bad  enough,  and 
not  over-amusing  as  it  is ;  but  what  wilt  be  with  legs  like 
two  peeled  carrots?  " 

"  No  worse  than  now,"  replied  Cristoval,  doggedly, 
"  and  at  least  not  idle." 

"But  what  dost  think  to  do?  —  to  fight  thy  way  to 
the  Nusta  Rava?  " 

"  That,  if  possible.  At  any  rate,  to  teach  these  people 
that  cavalry  is  not  to  be  stopped  with  bodkins,  nor  chain- 
shot  with  wisps  of  straw." 

"  Well,"  admitted  Pedro,  thoughtfully,  "  it  would  be 
a  God's  mercy." 

The  next  morning,  with  Markumi  and  Ocallo  follow 
ing,  they  made  a  long  detour  of  the  Peruvian  lines  to  the 
camp  of  the  Antis,  east  of  the  city.  Although  the  ride  was 
full  of  pain,  the  activity  was  a  relief  to  Cristoval,  and  as 
the  sun  rose  upon  the  valley  full  of  martial  sights  and 
sounds,  his  spirits  rose  with  it.  Near  midday  they  were 
guided  to  General  Mocho,  who  was  on  the  lines  with  his 


400  THE   CRIMSON    CONQUEST 

troops.  They  found  him  with  a  group  of  officers  on  a  rise 
of  ground  in  advance  of  his  battalions,  overlooking  the 
ruined  suburb,  Toco  Cachi.  He  hastened  forward  to  meet 
them,  greeting  the  cavalier  with  warmth.  The  latter  lost 
no  time  in  broaching  the  subject.  Mocho  interrupted  to 
summon  his  officers.  They  gathered  round,  listening  in 
tently  while  the  cavalier,  with  his  usual  brevity  and  clear 
ness,  laid  the  project  before  them. 

While  Cristoval  and  Pedro  refreshed  themselves, 
Mocho  went  to  the  pavilion  of  the  Inca  on  the  heights  east 
of  the  city.  Soon  chasquis  were  flying  to  summon  the 
generals  in  council. 

Evening  came,  with  notes  of  evening  calls  from  trum 
pets,  conchs,  and  drums,  and  the  movement  of  battalions 
relieving  those  on  the  line  around  the  city.  Then,  night 
with  its  myriad  stars,  myriad  fires  on  the  hills,  and  silence. 
But  in  Cuzco's  blackened  purlieus  the  besiegers  were  toil 
ing  through  the  hours. 

Near  midnight  Cristoval  returned  with  Pedro  from 
observing  the  operations  which  his  counsel  had  set  afoot, 
to  have  a  few  hours'  sleep.  Toward  morning  he  was 
roused  by  Pedro. 

"  Come,  Cristoval !  Up  and  helm.  The  thing 's 
a-ready  to  simmer.  Stir,  man!  Thou  hast  piped,  bas- 
sooned,  and  hautboyed  until  the  night  hath  shuddered  and 
my  mule  hath  wept.  Stew  me !  Cristoval,  had  I  a  sleeping- 
voice  like  thine  I  'd  gag  myself  with  a  saddle-bag,  or 
wear  a  coffin  for  a  night-robe.  Wake  up,  thou  scorched 
hurdy-gurdy !  'T  is  the  prime  hour  of  chilly  misery  and 
the  last  watch  of  ghosts  and  goblins.  Ah,  curse  it!  I 
would  I  were  a  barber,  and  no  cook.  See  what  it  hath 
led  to,  this  culinary  art!  Holal  Art  awake  at  last? 
Well,  here  is  a  bite  I  Ve  spread  for  thee.  Eat,  and  ballast 
thy  treason,  since  thou  'rt  on  treason  bent,  whilst  I  look 
to  our  saddles." 


THE    BARRICADES  401 

He  went  out  into  the  darkness  where  Ocallo  and 
Markumi  waited  with  their  steeds,  while  Cristoval,  now 
alive,  attacked  a  cold  luncheon  laid  by  his  thoughtful  com 
rade.  He  finished  hurriedly,  and  left  the  tent. 

The  two  Spaniards  were  quickly  in  saddle,  and  with 
Ocallo  and  Markumi  following,  crossed  the  camp  toward 
the  Antisuyu  road.  This  highway,  connecting  the  capital 
with  the  eastern  provinces,  becomes  the  street  in  which 
Cristoval  and  the  Antis  encountered  the  patrol  on  the  first 
night  of  the  fire.  A  few  minutes'  ride  brought  them  to  the 
road,  now  occupied  by  a  waiting  column.  Turning  toward 
the  city,  they  were  presently  in  its  outskirts.  Here  they 
found  Mocho  with  his  staff,  and  dismounting  to  join  them, 
Cristoval  felt  his  arm  touched.  He  glanced  round  and 
beheld  a  tall  figure,  clad  and  armed  like  the  Antis,  but 
wearing  a  turban. 

"  Abul  Hassan ! "  exclaimed  the  cavalier,  extending 
his  hand.  "  I  am  rejoiced  to  see  thee,  old  friend.  Dost 
take  part  with  us?  I  would  thou  hadst  a  horse  and  thine 
accoutrements." 

"  With  the  help  of  Allah  I  shall  have  both  before  the 
sun  setteth  again,"  replied  the  Morisco,  calmly.  He 
motioned  toward  a  group  of  twenty  or  more  men  with 
lassos  standing  near.  "Thy  herdsmen,  Cristoval.  I 
have  heard  of  thine  expedient  —  a  most  excellent  one !  " 

"  I  pray  it  will  prove  so,"  said  the  other,  "  and  that 
we  soon  shall  see  thee  mounted.  When  equipped,  seek 
us.  We  '11  find  thee  occupation." 

The  Morisco  nodded  grimly,  and  Cristoval  and  Pedro 
passed  on  to  Mocho.  In  front  were  men  at  work  in  the 
darkness,  and  the  general  gave  his  hand,  saying,  "The 
task  is  well  advanced,  Viracocha  Cristoval.  Let  us  move 
forward." 

He  led  the  way  into  the  street,  which  had  been  made, 
in  pursuance  of  Cristoval's  instructions,  a  confusion  of 

26 


402 

half-burned  timbers,  pieces  of  furniture  which  had  escaped 
the  fire,  and  all  manner  of  debris.  Heaped,  lashed  together, 
and  interlaced,  they  formed  an  entanglement  difficult  for 
men  on  foot,  and  for  cavalry  barely  surmountable.  The 
adobe  walls  on  each  side  had  been  pierced  with  loopholes 
for  the  archers,  and  the  side-streets  barricaded  against 
flanking. 

The  party  picked  their  way  slowly,  climbing  over 
here,  bending  to  pass  under  there,  while  Cristoval  in 
spected,  commended,  or  advised,  until  they  had  penetrated 
far  into  the  suburb,  where  the  workmen  were  still  toiling. 
Until  near  dawn  they  directed  the  Antis  pouring  silently 
into  the  suburb  and  occupying  the  ruined  buildings  along 
the  obstructed  way.  Cristoval  saw  the  men  with  lassos 
properly  placed,  and  the  party  returned  to  the  outskirts. 

A  few  minutes  later,  a  company  of  warriors  made  its 
way  through  the  entanglement  into  the  city,  going  for 
ward  to  draw  a  Spanish  attack. 

Cristoval  and  Pedro  stood  near  the  group  around 
Mocho.  The  sky  was  light  when  far  in  the  distant  streets 
they  heard  the  war-cry  of  the  Antis.  Immediately  followed 
the  hoarse  shouts  of  the  Spaniards,  shots,  and  trumpets 
calling  to  arms.  The  sounds  were  faintly  borne  on  the 
morning  breeze,  but  full  of  portent,  and  echoed  in  many 
a  warlike  heart  among  the  ruins  of  the  suburbs.  Mocho 
moved  forward,  giving  Cristoval  a  wave  of  the  hand  as  he 
passed,  and  a  rustling  and  shuffling  rose  in  the  road  back 
of  where  the  two  Spaniards  stood  as  the  waiting  warriors 
took  their  places  in  column. 

As  Cristoval  mounted,  he  heard  a  grunt  and  a  sigh  from 
Pedro,  then  the  creaking  of  the  saddle  as  the  cook  swung 
from  the  ground,  and  the  two  picked  their  way  slowly 
down  the  littered  street.  Arquebuses  were  crackling,  and 
now,  the  heavier  and  sharper  report  of  a  falconet.  The 
firing  ceased,  and  arose  the  nearing  din  of  cavalry.  The 


THE   BARRICADES  403 

decoying  party  of  Antis  was  flying  before  it  in  a  dash  for 
the  fatal  entanglement  upon  which  the  Spaniards  were 
blindly  rushing.  The  Antis  reached  it;  were  dimly  seen 
by  Cristoval  as  they  leaped  into  the  debris;  then  came  the 
crash  of  breaking  timbers  when  the  pursuing  troop  struck 
the  obstruction,  a  confusion  of  yells  and  Spanish  shouts 
of  warning,  drowned  by  the  war-cries  of  the  tribesmen 
behind  the  walls  as  they  delivered  their  terrible  volley. 
A  wild,  tossing  disarray  of  horses  and  riders,  plunging  and 
falling  among  the  snapping  beams,  ridden  over  by  the 
resistless  torrent  from  behind.  Men  and  animals  down  and 
struggling  in  the  wreckage,  crushed  beneath  those  borne 
onward  by  the  momentum  of  the  charge,  and  assailed  by 
the  hordes  of  Antis  rushing  from  the  buildings.  Rider 
less  steeds,  maddened  by  fear  and  wounds,  careered  wildly 
forward,  or  turned  to  the  rear  and  added  to  the 
chaos.  Troopers  retaining  their  seats  were  blinded  by  the 
tempest  of  arrows  and  javelins,  and  could  only  shelter 
themselves  behind  their  shields,  bending  low  over 
saddle-bows  to  avoid  the  hail.  Still  they  were  forced  on 
up  the  narrow,  encumbered  street,  which  roared  with 
tumult  indescribable. 

Now  Cristoval  heard  a  Spanish  voice  rising  above  the 
clamor:  "Forward!  Forward!  Forward!"  and  the 
notes  of  a  trumpet,  broken  and  faltering  before  it  could 
blow  the  command.  The  column  must  fight  through,  or 
be  crushed  by  those  in  the  rear.  The  leading  riders  pressed 
on,  sabring  at  the  multitude  crowding  from  all  sides. 
Cristoval  advanced  with  Pedro  to  meet  them.  A  lasso 
serpentined  through  the  haze  of  flying  arrows,  settled  over 
the  foremost  trooper,  and  jerked  him  from  his  saddle,  to 
be  lost  among  the  Antis  as  if  swallowed  by  the  sea.  Other 
sinuous  lines  shot  out,  fastening  upon  the  Spaniards  and 
dragging  them  to  quick  obliteration.  Those  in  advance 
paused,  fear-struck  by  a  weapon  against  which  their  blades 


404  THE    CRIMSON    CONQUEST 

were  powerless.  They  saw  comrades  totter  and  go  down ; 
turned  in  panic,  and  Cristoval  was  among  them. 

Fell  and  relentless  purpose  in  this  cavalier;  his  arm 
nerved  and  strength  doubled  by  thought  of  Rava.  The 
nearest  troopers,  dismayed  and  disordered,  opposed  feeble 
resistance  to  the  furious  onslaught  of  Cristoval  and  his 
comrade;  while  those  behind,  aware  of  a  new  check  to 
the  advance,  the  cause  of  which  they  could  not  see,  raised 
the  cry,  "  To  the  rear !  "  It  was  caught  up  at  once ;  and 
now,  panic  and  disorder  tenfold. 

As  Cristoval  fought  he  heard  a  cry  rising  shrill,  "  Allah 
il  Allah!  Allah  il  Allah  I"  and  Abul  Hassan  was  beside  him, 
mounted  on  the  steed  of  some  fallen  Spaniard.  Into  the 
fray  the  Morisco,  reckless  of  want  of  armor,  fighting  with 
the  ferocity  of  a  demon. 

The  retreat  was  more  disastrous  than  the  advance; 
but  slowly  the  troop  fought  back  to  the  open  street,  shook 
itself  free,  and  fled.  The  jaunty  sorties  were  to  be  made 
no  more. 

At  Hernando's  council  that  night,  once  more  glum 
taciturnity.  From  dawn  there  has  been,  on  every  hand, 
sharp  repulse  unexampled  since  the  siege  began:  many 
saddles  empty  for  result,  and  a  general  call  for  surgery. 
Every  street  by  which  many  a  brisk  sally  has  been  made 
in  previous  weeks,  now  impassable  for  cavalry ;  and  barri- 
. cades  pushed  within  bowshot  of  the  square.  The  abrupt 
change  in  the  tactics  of  the  besiegers  is  ominous.  The 
presence  of  Peralta  —  for  the  identity  of  the  cavalier  seen, 
and  felt,  fighting  among  the  Antis,  is  not  doubted  —  is  sig 
nificant,  and  the  price  on  his  head  is  doubled. 

Toward  evening  Cristoval  was  joined  by  Pedro  at  the 
edge  of  the  barricade.  The  cavalier  had  laid  off  his  helmet 
and  was  begrimed  to  the  roots  of  his  hair  with  ashes  and 
black  dust  from  the  charred  timbers,  his  face  streaked  with 
perspiration,  his  reddened  eyes  gleaming  strangely  through 


THE    BARRICADES  405 

their  surrounding  sootiness.  He  turned  to  his  comrade 
and  said  with  a  grim  smile :  — 

"  Aha !  Pedro,  we  seem  to  have  put  them  on  the  de 
fensive,  yonder  in  the  square.  What  sayst  thou?  " 

"Why,  I  say  first,"  returned  Pedro,  eying  him 
sharply,  "  that  if  I  caught  myself  with  a  grin  as  weird  as 
that  of  thine,  I  'd  wear  a  wooden  face  as  well  as  a  wooden 
leg.  Untwist  thy  features,  man!  Thou  hast  the  look  of 
a  devil.  Ah!  Now,  I'll  reply  to  thine  observation  by 
saying  that  I  'm  hungry ;  and  as  for  those  knaves  in  the 
square,  we  have  them  where  they  will  stay  for  a  spell,  or 
longer,  without  being  told.  So  let  us  go  and  eat." 

Cristoval,  about  to  reply,  noted  a  sudden  silence 
among  the  Antis.  Every  one  of  them  was  on  his  knees  and 
bending  toward  the  three  or  four  nobles  who  had  just 
drawn  near. 

"Madre!  The  Inca!"  exclaimed  Pedro,  then  he 
growled  beneath  his  breath,  "  Now  look  at  these  pagans ! 
Every  man  doubled  up  like  a  razor,  and  everything  dropped 
without  a  word  of  warning!  Suppose  the  Inca  had  come 
about  this  morning,  Cristoval !  We  had  been  undone." 

Cristoval  made  no  answer,  for  an  officer  recognized 
as  Quehuar  was  beckoning. 

The  two  Spaniards  halted  a  few  paces  from  the 
monarch  and  saluted,  awaiting  his  pleasure  to  speak.  His 
countenance,  more  bronzed  and  sterner  in  its  lines,  wore 
a  trace  of  friendliness  not  there  before.  The  Inca  studied 
the  grim,  murky  visage  of  the  cavalier  before  he  spoke. 

"  Viracocha  Cristoval,"  he  said,  at  length,  "  General 
Mocho  hath  told  me  of  thy  gallantry  to-day  —  and  thine, 
Viracocha  Pedro  —  and  I  see  evidence  here  of  thy  zeal  and 
soldierly  skill.  My  warriors  owe  thee  a  measure  of  suc 
cess  and  hope  thus  far  wanting.  What  thou  hast  accom 
plished  hath  mine  appreciation  and  gratitude,  as  hath  all 
thou  hast  done  hitherto.  There  is  more  that  I  would  say 


406  THE    CRIMSON    CONQUEST 

to  you,  Viracochas,  but  at  a  fitter  time.  To-night  you  will 
sup  with  me,  both." 

The  Inca  gave  a  hand  to  each,  and  turned  to  continue 
his  tour  of  the  suburbs. 

The  two  Spaniards  supped  with  the  Inca  at  dark,  in 
the  open,  at  a  table  lighted  by  a  circle  of  fires.  Of  the 
score  present  several  were  officers  met  at  Ollantaytambo ; 
among  the  strangers  the  Villac  Vmu,  now  in  warrior's 
garb.  A  number  besides  Mocho  bore  marks  of  recent 
fighting.  The  formality  imposed  by  the  presence  of  the 
monarch  was  lacking,  and  he  met  his  guests  with  a  revela 
tion  of  his  personality  unexpectedly  agreeable  to  Cristoval. 
As  guest  of  honor  the  cavalier  had  opportunity  to  correct 
the  impression  gained  at  their  first  interview,  that  the 
young  potentate  was  a  mere  barbarous  tyrant.  By  the  end 
of  the  meal,  when  Manco  pledged  first  him,  then  Pedro, 
clinking  their  cups  of  chicha.  with  his  own,  a  friendliness 
was  established  which  neither  Cristoval  nor  his  host  could 
have  foreseen. 

In  quiet  moods  the  resemblance  of  Manco  to  his  sister 
Rava  was  pronounced,  and  there  were  moments  acutely 
painful  to  Cristoval,  when  some  inflection  of  the  Inca's 
voice,  some  gesture,  or  an  evanescent  expression  of  his 
eyes,  brought  a  quick  vision  of  the  loved  one.  But  the 
Nusta  Rava  was  not  mentioned.  Indeed,  the  captives 
within  the  city  were  not  referred  to,  nor  any  of  the  losses 
sustained  since  the  beginning  of  the  siege.  This  was  de 
manded  by  Peruvian  stoicism;  and  for  all  said  that  night 
the  misfortunes  of  Tavantinsuyu  might  have  been  unfelt. 
As  they  scorned  manifestation  of  physical  pain,  so  they  hid 
mental  suffering  beneath  an  exterior  of  grave  impassibility. 

At  Mocho's  tent,  some  hours  later,  when  Cristoval 
was  taking  leave  for  the  night,  the  general  said  abruptly: 
"  Viracocha  Cristoval,  thou  hast  done  for  us  to-day  that 
for  which  words  cannot  thank  thee.  I  will  not  try.  But 


THE   BARRICADES  407 

the  Antis,  their  officers,  and  their  general,  are  thine.  Com 
mand  them.  Lead  them  whither  thou  wilt,  and  thou  'It 
find  the  last  living  man  of  them  behind  thee." 

The  cavalier  replied  with  a  grip  of  the  hand.  He  had 
few  words.  But  when  he  went  to  his  quarters  he  felt  a 
sudden  hope.  With  those  fierce  battalions  might  he  not 
search  every  nook  of  Cuzco?  Mocho  knew  the  object  of 
his  quest  when  he  entered  the  burning  city,  and  his  tender 
was  significant.  That  night  there  was  little  sleep  for 
Cristoval. 

At  dawn  he  sought  the  prisoners,  found  one  whom  he 
knew,  and  questioned  him  concerning  the  Nusta  Rava. 
Was  she  alive?  Alive,  and  safe  in  the  Acllahuasi  with 
the  rest  of  the  royal  household,  Father  Valverde  guarding 
like  a  hawk.  All  had  been  removed  from  the  Amarucancha 
before  it  burned,  and  the  Acllahuasi  was  one  of  the  few 
buildings  to  escape  the  conflagration. 

Cristoval  waited  to  ask  few  more  questions.  With 
Mocho  and  Pedro  he  held  council  for  an  hour.  At  the  end 
of  it  the  two  Spaniards  mounted,  and  making  a  detour  of 
the  suburbs,  entered  the  Rimac  Pampa,  crossed  the  Tulla- 
mayu,  and  reached  the  square  called  Coricancha,  in  front 
of  the  Temple  of  the  Sun.  This  quarter  was  held  by  the 
Piros  and  Conibos,  and  once  more  Cristoval  greeted 
Matopo,  whom  he  had  not  seen  since  leaving  the  Uru- 
bamba.  From  the  Coricancha  a  street  led  north  to  the 
square  occupied  by  the  Spaniards,  and  from  the  barricade 
thrown  up  by  Matopo  could  be  seen  the  Acllahuasi  at  the 
head  of  the  thoroughfare,  with  the  Amarucancha  on  its 
left,  across  the  way.  Plainly  visible,  also,  was  a  Spanish 
breastwork  defending  the  square,  with  a  falconet  scowling 
from  its  single  embrasure. 

That  night  Cristoval  and  Mocho  consulted  with  the 
Inca  regarding  the  captives  within  the  city. 

Day  came  with  a  heavy  sky  and  threat  of  rain.    During 


4o8  THE   CRIMSON    CONQUEST 

the  morning  sorties  were  attempted  by  the  Spaniards, 
evidently  for  reconnaissance,  for  after  brief  skirmishing 
in  the  littered  streets,  the  attacking  parties  withdrew.  The 
afternoon  was  spent  by  Cristoval  in  making  a  tour  of  the 
suburbs  with  the  Inca,  inspecting  the  barricades,  suggest 
ing  improvements,  and  perfecting  or  advancing  the 
investment. 

With  darkness  came  rain  and  a  rising  wind.  The 
night  would  favor.  Toward  midnight  Cristoval  rode  with 
Pedro  to  the  Coricancha.  The  square  was  massed  with 
Antis,  and  in  advance,  near  the  barricade  across  the  street 
to  the  Acllahuasi,  was  a  picked  body,  among  them  their 
general,  equipped  with  captured  arms  and  armor  —  a  reso 
lute  band,  which  Cristoval  surveyed  with  satisfaction. 


CHAPTER  XXXVII 
A  Night  Attack  and  a  Deliverance 

THE  rain  fell  drearily,  driven  and  swished  by  flaws 
of  the  wind,  which,  as  the  night  deepened,  in 
creased  to  a  gale,  moaning  and  whistling  mourn 
fully  through  the  ruins.    The  hours  lagged,  meas 
ured  by  the  brusque  challenging  of  the  Spanish  sentinels 
at  each  relief,  distinctly  heard  above  the  storm.    Still  the 
cavalier  withheld  the  word  for  the  advance,  biding  the 
night's  most  sinister  hour. 

He  waited  with  apparent  patience.  But  outwardly 
calm,  within  was  a  turbulence  of  mingled  hope  and  anx 
iety,  eagerness  and  doubt;  throngs  of  dear  anticipations, 
and  clouds  of  dark  misgivings.  He  was  a  lover  with  the 
possibility  of  meeting  his  beloved  ere  the  night  was  spent ; 
but  while  his  heart  palpitated  at  the  thought,  it  sank  at 
the  attending  uncertainties,  and  at  all  that  must  intervene. 
He  turned  abruptly,  not  daring  to  dwell  upon  a  happi 
ness  so  unassured.  Mocho  looked  toward  him.  "  Do  we 
move,  Viracocha  Cristoval?  " 

"  In  God's  name,  yes !  Let  us  go !  " 
Mocho  muttered  a  word  to  the  nearest  Antis;  as  it 
passed  to  the  rear  of  the  column  a  movement  followed, 
barely  audible.  Cristoval  unsheathed  his  sword  and  laid 
aside  belt  and  scabbard.  Pedro  imitated  with  a  sigh  and 
murmured,  "  Well,  this  is  what  cometh  of  being  a  cook ! 
Would  I  were  —  "  He  did  not  finish.  He  had  muffled  his 
peg,  and  followed  the  cavalier  noiselessly  as  the  latter 


410 

stole  out  through  a  breach  in  the  barricade  to  the  open 
street.  Mocho,  Abul  Hassan,  and  the  squad  of  mail-clad 
Antis,  were  close  behind ;  then,  the  main  body.  With  the 
advance  were  two  men  armed  with  sledges. 

Cristoval  moved  forward  in  the  darkness  with  cau 
tion,  pausing  at  moments  to  bate  his  breath  and  listen. 
Along  the  wall  of  the  roofless  palace  of  the  Priesthood  of 
the  Sun,  past  black  doorways  full  of  subdued  echoings  of 
the  dismal  plash  and  drip  in  the  courts  within,  until  they 
reached  an  intersecting  street.  Only  this  short  distance 
covered!  He  seemed  to  have  travelled  an  hour.  Looking 
back  he  found  his  party  close  upon  him,  motionless,  dimly 
seen  in  the  faint  light  of  the  crossing.  Forward  again, 
counting  his  steps.  Three  hundred  paces,  and  he  halted. 
Here  was  the  Acllahuasi,  its  thatch  saved  from  the  fire 
by  miracle.  On  his  left,  the  Amarucancha  —  blank  walls 
with  a  few  roof-timbers  vaguely  outlined  against  low- 
hanging  clouds.  The  gate  of  the  convent  must  be  near, 
and  he  waited  to  allow  the  tribesmen  to  pass  the  barricade. 
The  movement  of  those  nearest  him  ceased ;  there  was  no 
sound  from  the  rear,  and  for  a  time,  as  he  stood  looking 
back  into  the  gloom,  Cristoval  feared  the  Antis  were  not 
following.  A  figure  appeared  before  him  as  silently  as  a 
phantom,  and  stretching  forth  his  hand,  he  felt  a  quilted 
tunic.  At  once  another  was  beside  him,  and  a  third,  and 
the  cavalier  could  see  the  stealthy  movement  of  hun 
dreds,  creeping  forward  with  the  still  tread  of  pumas. 
Slowly  they  massed,  and  touching  Pedro's  arm,  Cristoval 
advanced. 

In  front,  through  the  cleft  between  the  black  walls 
on  either  hand,  was  a  pale  flickering  from  the  square, 
where  the  fires  were  struggling  in  the  rain,  ruddily  light 
ing  the  mist  when  a  blast  started  a  few  scattered  sparks, 
subsiding  to  a  feeble  glow  until  the  buildings  melted  into 
obscurity.  He  could  descry  the  breastwork  across  the 


AN   ATTACK   AND    A    DELIVERANCE       411 

head  of  the  street,  and  the  embrasure  from  which  a  fal 
conet  commanded  the  approach.  He  looked  in  vain  for  a 
sentinel.  But  presently,  the  faint  ring  of  a  grounded  hal 
berd  :  the  sentinel  was  there,  and  awake. 

Groping  along  the  wall  on  his  right,  he  came  to  a  re 
cess, —  the  gate!  Pedro  and  Mocho  halted  beside  him. 
Passing  his  hand  over  the  doors,  Cristoval  felt  the  padlock, 
which  rattled  slightly  under  his  trembling  fingers,  and  he 
drew  back.  Mocho  pushed  the  two  sledge-men  into  the 
gateway,  and  they  placed  themselves  with  hammers 
poised. 

The  Antis  were  now  moving  past,  led  by  Abul  Has 
san,  and  a  detail  detached  themselves  and  halted,  ready 
to  follow  into  the  Acllahuasi.  Minute  after  minute  fled,  and 
the  warriors  crept  on  toward  the  square,  while  Cristoval 
waited,  shivering  with  excitement  until  he  clenched  his 
teeth  to  prevent  their  rattling.  Hours,  hours,  he  stood 
before  the  gates  behind  which  he  should  find  joy  or  despair, 
listening  for  what  would  be  the  signal.  The  movement 
of  the  Antis  was  hardly  audible  above  the  wind  and  rain, 
though  as  one  after  another  brushed  past  he  heard  their 
breathing,  strained  with  the  tension  of  coming  battle.  The 
street  was  dense  with  them,  their  bent  bodies  and  con 
strained,  fearfully  slow  advance  as  expressive  of  fierce  in- 
tentness  as  if  it  could  be  read  in  their  faces.  But,  gods! 
would  they  never  reach  the  square?  Had  the  Morisco 
halted?  Cristoval  leaned  forward  and  glanced  up  the 
street :  a  quivering  level  of  brazen  helmets,  half  luminous 
in  the  reflection  from  the  firelit  haze  ahead. 

As  he  looked,  a  shout  rose  from  the  sentinel,  hoarse  and 
startled,  cut  short  by  the  deafening  war-cry  of  the  Antis 
as  they  rushed. 

"  Strike !  Strike !  "  shouted  Cristoval,  and  the  gates 
thundered  and  crashed  under  the  sledges.  Stroke  after 
stroke  fell  upon  the  resonant  panels,  shattering  them  to 


4i2  THE    CRIMSON    CONQUEST 

fragments.  The  street  bellowed  and  howled.  From  the 
square,  wild  shouts,  the  sharp  blasts  of  a  trumpet,  the 
roar  of  the  assaulting  Antis.  A  shot,  then  a  second,  and  a 
broken  fusillade.  A  flash  lighted  the  dripping  walls,  and 
an  ear-stunning  report  rent  the  heavy  air.  The  rampart 
was  high,  and  before  the  Antis  were  over  a  soldier  had 
seized  a  brand,  rushed  to  the  piece,  uncovered  the  vent  and 
fired.  Unheeding  wounds  and  death,  the  Antis  were  on 
the  parapet,  and  the  gun  dismounted.  They  were  over  the 
work  and  into  the  square,  driving  the  half-formed  infantry 
before  them.  But  for  days  no  horse  had  been  unsaddled, 
no  trooper  out  of  his  armor.  In  a  moment  the  earth  was 
trembling  with  their  onset,  and  the  Antis  were  hurled 
back  to  the  barricade.  Here  they  stopped  and  fought, 
hand  to  hand.  At  other  points,  now,  the  yells  and  turmoil 
of  assault,  the  flash  and  roar  of  guns.  A  few  defences 
were  carried,  and  the  Peruvians  plunged  into  the  square, 
to  be  met  and  broken  by  flying  squads  of  horse,  driven 
back  into  the  streets  and  slaughtered  by  the  artillery. 

But  the  Antis  held  the  rampart,  and  the  gate  of  the 
Acllahuasi  was  broken  through.  Followed  by  Pedro, 
Mocho,  and  a  score  of  warriors,  Cristoval  dashed  into  the 
enclosure.  The  darkness  was  pitchy,  and  he  went  head 
long  into  a  copse  of  shrubbery,  stumbled  through  into  a 
path,  lost  it  at  once,  and  lost  himself  in  another  thicket. 
Half  a  minute  had  separated  him  from  his  friends.  He 
groped  about  in  bewilderment,  blundering  on.  Heard 
voices,  and  shouted:  answered,  as  it  seemed,  from  every 
point  of  the  compass.  One  voice  was  Pedro's,  but  Heaven 
alone  could  have  sent  a  clue  to  its  direction.  He  was  in  a 
great  garden,  dark  with  foliage  intersected  by  a  maze  of 
paths.  He  crashed  forward  into  another  gravelled  walk, 
and  brought  up  against  a  wall.  He  was  across  the  enclos 
ure,  and  felt  a  pavement  beneath  his  feet.  He  could  dis 
cern  doorways,  numbers  of  them,  all  alike;  some  open, 


AN    ATTACK   AND    A    DELIVERANCE       413 

with  empty  dark  chambers,  some  closed.  He  followed  to 
the  right,  trying  the  closed  ones,  finding  them  unlocked 
and  the  rooms  vacant.  No  sign  of  life,  and  he  hurried  on 
with  sinking  heart,  sick  with  the  fear  that  he  had  come  too 
late.  The  night  was  hideous  with  the  clamor  outside,  but 
he  gave  little  heed,  intent  only  on  his  quest.  He  heard  a 
step,  and  ran  against  someone  in  the  gloom,  who  sprang 
back  with  a  familiar  exclamation  and  engaged  him. 
"  Pedro !  "  he  shouted,  and  the  cook  responded :  "  Thou, 
Cristoval!  Heaven  be  praised!  Where  the  fiend  are  we? 
Where  are  the  others?  " 

"  Only  the  fiend  knoweth.  Come ! "  They  hastened 
along,  throwing  open  doors,  but  finding  everywhere  dark 
ness  and  vacancy.  Cristoval's  hope  was  fast  going.  "  Oh, 
my  God !  Oh,  my  God !  "  he  muttered  over  and  over. 
"  Where  is  she?  Rava!  Rava!  "  he  called.  "  Answer,  in 
the  name  of  Heaven !  " 

Suddenly  a  gruff  voice  commanded  in  Spanish, 
"  Halt !  "  Cristoval  sprang  forward.  Again  the  summons, 
"  Halt !  "  and  a  burly  form  loomed  in  the  darkness  with  a 
mace  raised  to  strike.  "  Halt !  I  command  you  in  the 
name  of  the  Holy  Church !  " 

"  Father  Valverde !  "  cried  the  cavalier.  "  Hold,  man ! 
lam  —  " 

The  mace  descended  with  sturdy  force,  dexterously 
caught  on  Cristoval's  buckler.  In  an  instant  the  priest's 
heels  were  kicked  from  under  him,  and  Cristoval  strode 
past,  while  Pedro  seated  himself  upon  the  prostrate  eccle 
siastic.  Without  hesitation  Cristoval  tried  the  door  Val 
verde  had  been  guarding.  It  was  fast,  and  he  hurled  his 
weight  against  it.  At  the  second  assault  it  yielded,  burst 
open  at  the  next,  and  the  cavalier  found  himself  in  a  dimly- 
lighted  room,  facing  a  group  of  shrieking  women  clinging 
about  one  who  confronted  him  with  unwavering,  coura 
geous  eyes,  but  with  no  sign  of  recognition. 


4H  THE   CRIMSON    CONQUEST 

He  stepped  forward  and  halted,  strove  to  speak,  and 
failed,  and  stood  overcome,  while  the  women,  made  hys 
terical  by  the  tumult  beyond  the  convent  walls,  wailed  at 
his  dread  appearance.  He  had  forgotten  his  lowered 
visor,  his  bared  sword,  and  the  seeming  menace  of  his 
attitude,  and  could  only  murmur  hoarsely  as  he  advanced : 
"  Rava !  Rava !  Dost  not  know  me  —  Cristoval  ?  " 

She  cowered  away,  glaring  in  terror  and  anger,  but 
with  no  word.  He  halted  again,  and  lost  his  voice,  stand 
ing  before  her  helpless  in  a  sudden  fear.  "  Rava !  "  he 
cried  in  desperation.  "  Rava !  in  God's  name,  child,  hast 
forgotten  me?" —  Then  thought  of  his  visor  and 
raised  it. 

Her  expression  changed  slowly  to  one  of  wonder  and 
unbelief,  and  she  raised  her  hand  to  her  heart,  growing 
suddenly  more  pallid.  In  the  semi-darkness  of  the  room 
she  was  uncertain  until  he  spoke  her  name  again.  Then 
she  stretched  forth  her  hands,  took  a  step  forward,  and 
sank  with  a  sob  into  the  arms  of  the  Nusta  Ocllo. 

In  a  second  Cristoval  had  her  in  his  own,  pressing 
his  lips  to  hers,  to  her  forehead,  and  to  her  eyes  until  she 
opened  them ;  but  quite  too  choked  himself  to  speak  —  this 
stalwart  cavalier !  —  and  half  blinded  by  something  he 
feared  she  would  see. 

"Oh  —  is  it  thou,  my  Cristoval?"  she  murmured, 
raising  her  hand  to  touch  his  swarthy  cheek,  only  half- 
convinced  by  her  eyes.  "  Ah,  my  love,  I  thought  thee  for 
ever  lost ! "  and  in  a  passion  of  weeping  she  put  her  arms 
c.bout  the  steel-covered  neck,  pressing  her  cheek  upon  his 
breastplate,  insensible  to  its  cold  and  hardness,  conscious 
only  of  a  joy  beyond  belief. 

They  were  oblivious  of  those  around  them,  of  the  din 
of  battle  coming  through  the  open  door;  forgetful  of  all 
but  one  another,  and  might  have  remained  fatally  so,  had 
not  the  Auqui  Paullo  rushed  in,  followed  at  once  by  Pedro 


AN   ATTACK   AND   A   DELIVERANCE       415 

and  Father  Valverde.  The  bishop  had  been  disarmed, 
and  was  flaming  with  rage.  The  youth,  wild-eyed,  and 
pale  with  the  excitement  of  the  night,  halted  at  the  as 
tounding  spectacle  of  his  sister  embracing  a  Viracocha. 
Before  he  had  recovered,  Mocho  dashed  in  and  seized  his 
arm. 

"  Auqui  Paullo,"  cried  the  general,  "  there  is  no  mo 
ment  to  lose!  Assemble  the  women  and  get  them  to  the 
gate.  Hasten!" 

Mocho  in  armor  was  unrecognized.  Paullo  wrenched 
himself  free  and  demanded  angrily,  "  Who  art  thou?  " 

"Oh,  Supay!  — I  am  Mocho!  Fly,  Paullo !  — Cris- 
toval,  do  not  tarry.  Lead  the  Nusta  to  the  gate." 

Paullo  stared  for  a  second,  then  hurried  out  to  col 
lect  the  rest  of  the  household.  Mocho  turned  to  the  wail 
ing  women.  Cristoval  was  gently  forcing  Rava  toward  the 
door  when  Father  Valverde,  as  suspicious  of  the  cavalier 
as  of  any  other  soldier,  interposed.  Planting  himself  in 
front  of  the  two,  he  commanded  sternly :  — 

"  Peralta,  forbear !  Release  the  maiden.  She  re- 
maineth  here." 

Cristoval  surveyed  him  in  astonishment  and  anger. 
"  Remaineth  here,  priest !  Art  mad?  Out  of  the  way !  " 

"Release  her!"  commanded  Valverde,  advancing  to 
restrain  her.  Cristoval  interposed  his  buckler  and  thrust 
him  roughly  back. 

"  Release  her!  "  thundered  the  bishop.  "  Pass  me  on 
pain  of  the  wrath  of  the  Church,  her  holy  guardian !  Rava, 
beware  this  man,  and  remember  thy  promise!  Peralta, 
this  maiden  is  for  no  man." 

The  cavalier  laughed  in  his  face.  "Stand  aside!" 
he  cried,  savagely.  "Thou'rt  in  peril,  Valverde!" 

Valverde  raised  his  hand  in  menace.  "  Excommunicabo 
fe  —  »  he  began  solemnly ;  and  Cristoval  blanched,  then 
replied,  fiercely:  — 


416  THE  CRIMSON   CONQUEST 

"  Excommunicate  and  be  damned !  I  defy  thee !  By 
what  right  this  interference?  Aside!  lest  I  forget  thy 
gown."  He  strode  past.  Valverde,  white  with  passion, 
would  have  sprung  upon  him,  but  Mocho,  furious  at  delay, 
thrust  himself  between  with  his  sword  at  the  bishop's 
breast,  his  eyes  blazing  with  vindictiveness.  "  Back, 
Viracocha,  or  by  the  great  Inti,  I  will  lay  thee  open !  " 

Valverde  recoiled,  and  Cristoval  hurried  to  the  door 
with  Rava,  followed  by  the  women,  whom  Mocho  drove 
after  them  with  scant  ceremony. 

They  were  soon  at  the  gate  with  all  of  the  household 
that  could  be  collected.  But  many  of  the  terrified  women 
had  hidden  themselves,  and  there  was  no  time  to  search. 
Outside,  the  conflict  was  still  raging.  The  Antis  were 
holding  the  breastwork  with  desperate  valor  and  deter 
mination,  Abul  Hassan  at  the  front,  for  the  hour  a  mad 
man,  a  Moslem  fanatic:  pity  the  Spaniard  who  came 
within  reach  of  his  terrible  blade.  Ocallo  and  Markumi, 
with  the  other  armored  Antis,  fought  beside  him,  tigers. 
At  the  gate  the  street  was  a  mere  madness  of  warriors 
struggling  to  the  places  of  those  who  fell. 

Mocho  and  Cristoval  forced  themselves  into  the 
throng,  leading  the  convoy  of  women  surrounded  by  the 
detail  which  had  followed  into  the  Acllahuasi.  It  was 
minutes  before  they  could  make  an  avenue  through  the 
tribesmen,  but  at  length  they  gave  way,  and  leaving  the 
two  Spaniards  to  take  the  rescued  to  the  rear,  Mocho 
turned  back  to  the  rampart,  which  must  be  held  until  the 
women  were  in  safety.  Slowly  Cristoval  forged  through 
the  press,  keeping  close  to  the  wall,  and  at  length  the  worst 
was  past.  A  hundred  yards  more,  and  they  were  at 
Matopo's  barricade  and  through  the  breach:  Rava  was 
delivered  from  her  peril. 

Cristoval  sought  her  in  the  crowd  of  hysterical  women, 
and  reached  her  side.  No  time  for  words.  He  embraced 


AN   ATTACK   AND   A   DELIVERANCE      417 

her  once,  and  before  she  knew  his  purpose  he  was  gone. 
Now  she  was  safe,  his  duty  lay  elsewhere.  The  Antis  must 
be  withdrawn. 

Once  more  to  the  front,  crowding,  staggering,  almost 
fighting  his  way  through  the  mass,  Cristoval  became 
aware  that  Pedro  was  behind.  He  turned  and  shouted  into 
the  cook's  ear:  "Back,  Pedro!  For  the  sake  of  Heaven, 
go  to  the  rear!  " 

There  was  scorn  in  Pedro's  voice  as  he  leaned  forward 
and  roared,  "Infiernol" 

Of  damnable  obstinacy,  this  cook !  Cristoval  pushed 
on,  every  step  more  difficult.  Here  was  an  officer.  The 
cavalier  seized  him  by  the  shoulder,  bellowing  and  ges 
ticulating  that  the  Antis  must  be  retired.  Hopeless! 
Mocho  was  at  the  front.  Retreat  and  leave  their  general? 

Forward,  then,  the  cavalier,  and  at  last  the  breastwork. 
Here  was  hell's  own  fury.  The  work  had  been  lost  and 
retaken  repeatedly  by  the  Antis,  and  was  half  demolished, 
its  crest  a  rampart  of  dead.  Mocho's  men  had  just  been 
swept  from  it  and  the  Spaniards  were  in  the  street.  The 
square  and  its  approaches  at  other  points  had  been  cleared, 
and  many  of  the  troopers  had  dismounted  to  fight  here. 
Their  weight  had  turned  the  tide,  and  Mocho  had  lost 
some  dozen  yards.  Cristoval  reached  the  point  of  contact, 
Pedro  close  behind  and  roaring  a  battle-cry.  In  the  pres 
sure,  the  foremost  of  the  foes  fought  shield  against  shield 
in  a  swaying,  howling  death-struggle  of  men  bereft  of 
reason,  the  more  horrible  for  the  darkness.  Cristoval 
could  see  nothing,  or,  vaguely,  a  wild  surging  around  him. 
Knew  that  he  was  in  touch  with  the  enemy  only  when  his 
buckler  rang  with  the  blow  of  a  mace.  Then  he  fought. 

For  the  rest,  a  mere  delirium,  hardly  to  be  remembered. 
He  heard  Mocho's  war-cry,  the  Morisco's  howl,  and  knew 
they  were  alive.  Pedro  was  beside  him.  Their  two  fresh 
blades  in  the  narrow  thoroughfare  turned  the  tide  once 

27 


4i8  THE    CRIMSON    CONQUEST 

more,  slowly  at  first,  then  with  a  rush,  and  Cristoval  was 
atop  of  the  breastwork.  Battled  here  a  brief  minute,  and 
was  hurled  back  by  a  fresh  charge  from  the  square  —  but 
with  the  memory  of  having  seen  a  spark  of  fire ! 

A  spark  of  fire!  Trivial!  But  what  if  it  were  a 
lighted  gunner's  match? 

Cristoval  gave  voice.  Found  Mocho,  and  roared  a 
warning.  A  Spanish  trumpet  was  blowing  the  recall,  and 
the  charge  had  been  arrested.  Mocho  was  ordering  back 
his  men,  but  as  well  shout  at  a  mountain  torrent.  They 
bore  forward  with  resistless  pressure,  and  Cristoval  was 
forced  against  the  rampart,  fighting  them  back  and  shout 
ing  with  all  the  strength  of  his  lungs.  Futile!  They 
passed  and  were  mounting  the  rampart.  As  he  stood  on 
the  dtbris  at  the  foot  of  the  scarp  he  was  head  and  shoul 
ders  above  the  work,  and  glancing  up,  saw  again  the  spark 
of  fire,  just  as  he  felt  himself  seized  by  a  strong  hand  and 
dragged  back  toward  the  wall  of  the  Acllahuasi.  Pedro 
shouted  something,  drowned  by  an  explosion  that  shook  the 
earth,  and  in  the  flash  he  saw  —  horror  not  to  be  told.  A 
gun  had  been  dragged  to  the  top  of  the  breastwork  and 
fired  in  the  very  faces  of  the  Antis. 

Horror  not  to  be  told,  not  to  be  imagined,  while  fal 
conet  and  arquebus  raked  the  street.  Pedro  held  the 
cavalier  with  firm  grip  as  they  crouched  beneath  the  spurts 
and  flashes  of  the  fire  overhead,  their  ears  benumbed  by 
the  repeated  shocks. 

At  length  the  rush  and  yells  of  the  retreating  Antis 
died  away,  and  the  arquebus-fire  was  stopped;  but  the 
falconet  still  roared,  though  with  longer  intervals  be 
tween  the  shots.  Cristoval  counted  the  seconds  inter 
vening.  There  would  be  time  enough  to  allow  a  dash  to 
the  gate  of  the  Acllahuasi,  where  they  would  have  cover 
until  the  firing  ceased.  He  spoke  to  Pedro,  —  no  fear  of 
being  overheard,  for  the  night  was  full  of  voices  raised  in 


AN   ATTACK   AND   A    DELIVERANCE       419 

every  intonation  which  agony  could  wrench  from  human 
lips.  Between  explosions  they  reached  the  gate  through 
the  stinging  atmosphere,  but  as  they  turned  into  its  shelter 
Cristoval  halted  his  comrade  with  a  hand  upon  his  arm. 
From  the  enclosure  came  the  sound  of  Spanish  voices,  and 
lights  were  flitting.  Valverde  had  reported  the  invasion, 
and  the  place  had  been  entered  through  another  door. 
A  party  was  coming  toward  the  gate.  No  alternative, 
then,  but  to  keep  the  street,  count  the  seconds,  and  before 
each  discharge,  throw  themselves  upon  the  pavement  be 
hind  their  bucklers.  These,  faced  with  steel,  might  deflect 
the  slugs  and  fragments  with  which  the  gun  was  charged. 

The  intervals  lengthened  to  near  a  minute,  the  firing 
being  a  mere  warning  against  renewed  attack;  and  the 
street  had  not  ceased  to  reverberate  after  the  next  explo 
sion  before  the  two  were  away.  Poor  Pedro's  speed  was 
not  high,  and  Cristoval  moderated  his  own,  counting  as  he 
ran.  "  Down ! "  he  cried,  at  the  limit  of  the  period  of 
safety,  and  they  went  upon  the  ground  full  length.  Now 
the  report,  and  the  deadly  blast  flew  over.  Cristoval  was 
up  and  speeding,  the  cook  close  in  his  rear,  then  down 
once  more  and  waiting  with  nerves  a-quiver.  Again  the 
report,  but  this  time  with  a  thick  patter  of  the  projectiles 
on  every  hand  as  the  charge  spread  with  the  increase  of 
range.  With  a  call  to  Pedro,  the  cavalier  sprang  to  his  feet 
and  dashed  on.  Twice  more  he  dropped  and  covered  him 
self:  gained  the  barricade,  and  was  through  the  breach. 
He  turned  with  a  shout  to  his  comrade.  There  was  no 
reply. 

Cristoval  called  again,  answered  by  the  moaning  of 
the  wind,  a  sound  unnoticed  since  they  had  left  the  barri 
cade,  he  could  not  have  said  how  many  hours  ago.  Some 
one  laid  hand  upon  his  shoulder:  —  Mocho,  bandaged. 
Cristoval  gave  his  hand  a  silent  pressure,  and  shouted 
again.  There  was  a  flash  far  up  the  street,  the  report,  and 


420 

the  barricade  sputtered.  Antis  gathered  round,  and  the 
cavalier  turned  to  them,  seeking  hope  against  despair. 

"  Hath  he  been  seen  —  the  Viracocha  Pedro?  Quick ! 
—  hath  he  been  seen?  " 

They  communed  among  themselves,  and  the  question 
was  passed  back.  Mocho  answered  after  a  silence,  but 
Cristoval  was  straining  his  eyes  toward  the  square.  He 
knew  the  reply  before  the  question  had  left  his  lips.  "  God 
have  mercy !  I  fear  for  him !  "  he  was  muttering.  "  Oh, 
God  have  mercy !  " 

Once  more  the  street  flashed  and  roared,  and  Cristoval 
started  forward.  Mocho  halted  him. 

"Stay,  friend!"  cried  the  general.  "Hast  lost  thy 
mind?  Whither?" 

"  I  must  find  him,"  said  Cristoval,  and  was  gone. 

The  way  was  littered  with  wounded  and  dead,  grew- 
some  obstacles  over  which  he  stumbled  as  he  crouched 
along,  groping  among  the  bodies  for  one  in  steel,  but 
counting  with  diligence.  He  had  not  gone  twenty  paces 
before  Mocho  was  beside  him.  The  cavalier  dragged  him 
into  a  doorway :  "  Lord  Mocho,  thou  must  return !  " 

"  With  thee :  not  before !  "  replied  the  general.  The 
falconet  spoke  again.  Cristoval  stood  irresolute,  then 
exclaimed :  "  Rashness,  my  lord !  —  but  I  am  grateful. 
Come !  Keep  close,  and  drop  at  my  word." 

They  sallied  forth  on  their  desperate,  almost  hopeless 
errand,  searching  for  a  few  brief,  fevered  seconds,  then 
prone  to  wait  for  the  deadly  flurry.  Thus  they  proceeded 
slowly,  far  up  the  street.  The  interval  between  the  shots 
had  grown  —  near  five  minutes,  was  the  cavalier's  rough 
guess  —  and  they  covered  the  ground  more  rapidly.  At 
last  the  firing  ceased.  The  searchers  were  in  front  of  the 
Acllahuasi,  and  turned  back.  They  must  hasten,  for  dawn 
was  at  hand,  and  through  the  powder-smoke  the  mangled 
forms  on  the  pavement  were  indistinctly  visible,  a  grievous 


AN   ATTACK   AND   A    DELIVERANCE       421 

sight  to  Mocho.  Should  the  veil  lift,  the  hunt  would  end 
abruptly.  Now,  however,  it  went  on  without  interruption. 

Somewhere  near  the  cross-street  a  suppressed  excla 
mation  from  the  cavalier  drew  Mocho  to  his  side.  He  was 
bending  over  a  prostrate  form  in  armor,  and  the  general, 
as  he  neared,  heard  a  sound  very  like  a  sob.  Pedro  lay 
face  downward  and  quite  still,  but  as  Cristoval  gently 
rolled  him  over  he  groaned  slightly,  and  they  knew  him 
to  be  alive.  Silently  they  raised  him  and  started  on  their 
return. 

In  the  last  few  minutes  the  light  had  grown  appre 
ciably,  and  the  street  was  almost  clear  of  smoke.  In  the 
direction  of  the  square  they  heard  voices:  a  Spanish 
search-party,  looking  for  their  own  wounded.  Cristoval 
glanced  back,  and  they  pressed  on.  The  barricade  was 
but  a  few  yards  away  when  there  was  a  shout  near  the 
Acllahuasi.  They  had  been  observed.  Another  shout,  and 
the  report  of  an  arquebus.  —  Poor  marksmanship,  thought 
Cristoval.  A  second  shot,  and  a  ball  struck  the  pavement 
close  by,  and  with  a  vicious  sing  and  spat  hit  the  barri 
cade.  A  third,  and  Cristoval  stumbled  to  his  knees  with  a 
quick  catch  of  breath.  He  staggered  up  at  once,  his  face 
white.  "  It  is  naught,"  he  replied  hurriedly  to  Mocho's 
startled  question,  and  glanced  anxiously  at  Pedro,  from 
whom  the  jolt  had  started  a  groan. 

They  passed  the  barricade,  laid  their  burden  on  the 
ground,  and  kneeling  beside  him,  Cristoval  rapidly  re 
moved  the  armor.  There  was  a  ragged  hole  through 
Pedro's  corselet  beneath  his  right  arm,  one  more  ragged 
and  terrible  in  his  side  where  a  projectile  had  torn  its  way, 
but  a  hasty  examination  showed  that  it  had  passed  entirely 
through.  Cristoval  worked  quickly,  cutting  away  the 
clothing,  and  while  water  and  bandages  were  being  sought, 
laid  aside  his  own  helmet,  conscious  that  a  numbness  in 
his  shoulder  had  given  place  to  pain.  But  he  finished  with 


422  THE   CRIMSON    CONQUEST 

Pedro's  wound,  and  rose,  somewhat  giddy,  to  ask  assist 
ance  in  disarming.  Matopo  was  beside  him.  Cristoval 
grasped  his  arm. 

"  She  is  safe,  Matopo  —  the  Nusta  Rava?  "  demanded 
the  cavalier.  "  Speak!  Thou  hast  seen  her  in  safety?  " 

"  She  is  safe,  Viracocha  Cristoval,"  answered  an  even 
voice  behind  him,  and  turning,  he  beheld  the  Inca.  Paullo 
was  at  his  side,  and  near  by,  a  group  of  nobles.  Manco 
extended  his  hand  and  continued :  "  She  is  safe  —  I  thank 
the  great  Inti,  and  thee !  " 

Cristoval  took  the  proffered  hand,  but  the  reaction 
from  hours  of  strain  was  upon  him,  with  the  realization 
that  he  had  found  his  love  and  led  her  out  of  danger.  The 
agony  of  months  was  ended.  "  Sapa  Inca,"  he  began,  un 
steadily,  but  could  say  no  more,  and  Manco,  as  he  released 
his  hand,  felt  it  shaking. 

The  young  monarch  eyed  him  gravely,  his  sombre  eyes 
growing  thoughtful,  then  kindly,  when  he  said  as  if  in  obe 
dience  to  an  impulse:  — 

"  Viracocha,  should  I  try  to  tell  thee  my  gratitude  the 
words  could  but  make  it  seem  unequal  to  thy  gallant  ser 
vice.  Once,  I  offered  thee  a  gift.  Now,  I  offer  thee  an 
other  which  hath  no  value  but  the  honor  which  it  beareth 
with  it,  and  the  esteem  which  I  wish  it  to  express."  He 
drew  from  his  bosom  a  llauttt,  woven  of  van-colored  cords 
and  threads  of  gold  and  silver.  Braided  in  the  fringe 
were  strands  of  the  imperial  red  of  which  his  own  diadem 
was  made.  He  stepped  forward,  and  pausing  slightly, 
said,  "  I  beg  thou  wilt  accept  it,  Viracocha  Cristoval." 

The  cavalier  replied  earnestly,  with  a  quick  rise  of 
color,  "  My  Lord  Inca  Manco,  I  accept  it  most  gratefully 
and  proudly." 

"  Then  I  make  thee  an  Inca  of  Tavantinsuyu  by 
Privilege,"  said  the  monarch,  and  placed  the  llautu  upon 
Cristoval's  head.  He  touched  the  red  in  the  fringe.  "  This, 


AN   ATTACK  AND   A   DELIVERANCE      423 

my  Lord  Cristoval,  I  bestow  as  a  mark  of  especial  confi 
dence.  Thou  knowest  its  significance  and  power,  for  I 
am  not  the  first  to  give  it  thee."  He  turned  to  Pedro. 
"  For  thy  brave  comrade  I  shall  find  another  expression  of 
my  gratitude.  He  must  be  brought  to  my  headquarters, 
where  there  are  tents  for  you  both."  He  made  a  slight 
gesture  to  stay  Cristoval's  words  of  thanks,  and  giving  his 
hand  once  more,  added :  "  The  Nusta  Rava,  my  lord,  will 
thank  thee  for  herself." 

As  the  Inca  moved  away,  his  nobles  gathered  round 
the  cavalier  with  words  of  friendship.  Paullo  had  taken 
both  his  hands,  saying  something  eagerly,  but  his  voice 
seemed  strangely  far  away.  The  earth  was  rolling  and 
whirling,  and  Cristoval  heard  some  one  exclaim,  "  Great 
Inti,  he  is  hurt ! "  Mocho  was  supporting  him,  and  he 
knew  no  more. 

They  found  a  wounded  shoulder,  not  dangerous,  but 
much  blood  had  flowed,  as  they  discovered  by  his  saturated 
clothing. 


CHAPTER  XXXVIII 
A  Tie  of  Mingled  Blood 

CRISTOVAL  became  languidly  conscious  of  the 
swaying  of  a  litter;    then  he  was  being  lifted 
to  a  couch  in  a  tent  softly  aglow  with  morning 
sunshine,  and  heard  friendly  voices  around  him. 
He  opened  his  eyes,  and  with  an  effort  whispered  an  in 
quiry  for  Pedro. 

"  He  is  being  cared  for,  my  lord,"  said  an  officer,  bend 
ing  over.  "  He  is  badly  hurt,  but  hath  asked  for  you. 
Otherwise,  his  mind  seemeth  to  wander,  for  he  muttered 
something  which  Markumi  translated  as  a  request  to  be 
stewed.  We  did  not  heed  him,  Lord  Cristoval." 
Cristoval  smiled  faintly  and  dozed  again. 
When  he  awoke  the  tent  had  grown  dim  with  the 
declining  day.  As  he  lay  with  partly  open  eyes  he  be 
came  aware  of  clasping  something  in  his  hand  that  pressed 
his  own  and  trembled.  He  raised  it  weakly,  and  his  eyes 
travelled  from  a  wrist  to  a  rounded  arm.  A  face  hovered 
over  him,  lovely  as  a  vision,  with  dark  eyes  deep  with 
tenderness  and  solicitude. 

"  Rava !  "  he  whispered ;  and  she  knelt,  pressing  her 
cheek  against  his  own,  her  form,  as  he  passed  his  arm 
around  her,  quivering  with  a  passion  of  joy.  He  would 
have  spoken,  but  she  pressed  her  fingers  upon  his  lips, 
murmuring  an  injunction  and  nestling  closer.  Cristoval 
was  content,  and  lay  marvelling  that  contentment  could  be 
so  perfect. 


A  TIE  OF   MINGLED   BLOOD          425 

But  if  he  could  not  speak,  he  could  listen,  and  he  heark 
ened  to  whispered  words,  mere  incoherencies,  broken  by 
faintest  of  sighs,  coming  from  the  depths  of  a  heart  which 
beat  with  love  without  reserve.  They  are  not  to  be  set 
down  here,  those  sweet,  disordered  fragments,  nor  are  their 
like  to  be  comprehended  save  by  the  ear  into  which  they 
are  breathed. 

The  interview  was  short.  A  mere  swift  glimpse  of 
happiness,  and  she  had  torn  herself  away,  lingering  in  a 
final  caress,  and  gone.  Cristoval  was  left  with  the  memory 
of  her  presence  and  touch,  ineffably  sweet,  until  submerged 
in  the  pain  of  helpless  longing. 

The  next  morning  the  old  man  who  attended  him 
brought  news.  Pedro  was  low,  and  his  chances  for  re 
covery  not  yet  determined,  but  there  was  hope.  Abul 
Hassan  had  crept  into  Matopo's  barricade  during  the  night, 
mortally  hurt.  Ocallo  and  Markumi  had  both  been 
wounded,  the  former  seriously.  Not  a  man  in  contact 
with  the  Spaniards  came  out  unscathed,  and  the  total 
losses  of  the  night  were  grave.  What  the  enemy  had  sus 
tained  could  only  be  guessed,  but  they  had  since  lain  in 
active,  though  apparently  doubly  vigilant,  and  strengthen 
ing  their  defences. 

Before  midday  Rava  came  with  Paullo  and  remained 
an  hour  or  more.  She  forbade  Cristoval's  speaking,  and 
talked  little  herself,  but  it  may  be  said  that  the  silence  was 
not  constrained.  The  day  dragged  after  her  departure,  but 
the  cavalier  slept,  and  was  without  fever.  The  following 
day  they  came  again,  and  Rava  remained  long.  By  a 
blessed  fortune  Paullo  was  called  away  on  three  several 
occasions,  and  the  moments  were  not  lost.  Still  she  per 
mitted  few  words,  touching  his  lips  and  bidding  him  wait. 
As  she  left  she  looked  back  with  a  swift,  bright  glance,  full 
of  some  meaning  which  he  could  not  fathom,  but  withal, 
most  agreeable  to  remember.  Later,  came  the  Inca  with 


426  THE    CRIMSON    CONQUEST 

Mocho  and  the  Villac  Vmu,  but  their  stay  was  short. 
Pedro,  said  Mocho,  was  better. 

The  day  passed  slowly,  quietly.  Night  fell,  and  Cris- 
toval  prayed  for  fortitude  to  endure  the  wait  for  the  mor 
row  and  Rava's  visit;  his  patience  inversely  proportioned 
to  his  gaining  strength.  He  slept  to  awake  toward  mid 
night  stronger  and  more  refreshed.  The  attendant  dozed 
with  his  back  against  the  tent-pole.  Cristoval  was  staring 
at  the  feeble  light,  musing  on  the  fatuity  of  a  number  of 
demented  moths  there  courting  a  painful  death,  while  he 
wondered  whether  their  singed  wings  would  smart  as  he 
had  smarted  after  his  own  encounter  with  fire;  and 
whether,  furthermore,  they  too  fancied  themselves  impelled 
by  love.  He  forgot  the  moths  in  counting  the  hours  before 
seeing  her  again.  His  eyes  were  closed.  They  opened  at 
a  faint  rustle,  and  he  beheld  an  apparition.  Within  the 
tent  door  stood  Rava,  her  eyes  dark  with  excitement,  but 
smiling  as  she  touched  her  lips  for  silence.  The  attendant 
glided  from  his  seat  to  his  knees  in  an  ecstasy  of  amaze 
ment.  She  whispered,  and  he  vanished  as  if  he  himself  had 
been  an  apparition.  Cristoval  saw  a  flush  of  color  mount 
to  her  cheeks.  The  next  instant  she  had  extinguished  the 
light,  and  was  kneeling  beside  his  couch  in  the  darkness. 
No  phantom,  this,  but  living,  palpitating  flesh  and  blood, 
warm  arms  that  crept  about  his  neck,  and  a  heaving  bosom 
to  which  his  head  was  pressed. 

Rava  drew  away  and  whispered  breathlessly,  passing 
her  hand  over  his  face :  "  Oh,  Cristoval,  what  canst  think 
of  me?  But  I  could  endure  no  longer,  and  now  I  will 
tell  thee  why  I  have  come  —  " 

The  pressure  of  Cristoval's  arm  told  his  thought. 
"  What  can  I  think,  my  own !  Only  of  thy  love  and  mine, 
and  my  gratitude.  God  make  me  always  worthy  of  the 
joy  thou  givest,  dear  heart ! " 

"Worthy  of  it,  Cristoval!     Of  what  hast  thou  not 


A    TIE   OF    MINGLED    BLOOD  427 

shown  thyself  worthy,  over  and  again?  — and  thy  grati 
tude,  my  love!  Ah,  then  what  must  mine  be  to  thee? 
But  I  must  tell  thee  why  I  have  come  to-night:  It  is  to 
say  farewell —  Nay!  but  hear  me  —  not  a  long  farewell 
—  to-morrow  I  go  to  Yucay." 

The  darkness  deepened  for  Cristoval.  "  To-morrow !  " 
he  groaned.  "  No,  no !  It  cannot  be,  Rava.  How  can  I 
live?  The  hope  of  seeing  thee  hath  kept  me  alive.  Thou 'It 
not  leave  me !  " 

She  touched  his  lips  again.  "  Be  patient,  Cristoval. 
Yucay  is  not  distant,  and  it  is  the  Inca's  wish  that  I  go. 
Bethink  thee !  This  is  a  camp." 

"  Ah,  true !  "  he  said,  sorrowfully.  "  No  place  for  thee, 
and  there  might  be  danger.  Thou  must  go,  though  it  is 
despair  for  me,  Rava.  But  say  we  shall  meet  soon  again." 

"  Could  I  leave  thee  else,  Cristoval?  " 

They  were  silent  until  Cristoval  asked :  "  Is  there 
other  reason  for  thy  going,  Rava?  The  Inca  knoweth  my 
love  for  thee.  Is  not  that  in  part  the  cause?" 

"  I  know  not.     He  knoweth  mine  for  thee." 

"  Hath  he  said?  " 

"  No :  he  hath  said  naught  of  thee  to  me,  and  from 
his  silence  I  am  sure.  I  know  not  what  is  in  his  mind.  He 
is  as  tender  as  he  used  to  be  in  earlier  days  —  he  parted 
from  me  in  anger,  Cristoval,  months  ago,  in  the  Ama- 
rucancha,  when  he  learned  I  had  become  a  Christian. 
His  anger  hath  gone,  but  he  regardeth  me  always  with 
strange  sadness  and  gloom.  I  fear  it  is  because  of  our 
love." 

Cristoval  partly  raised  himself.  "  Rava,  dost  think 
he  will  forbid  our  marriage?" 

"  Oh,  my  own,  I  do  not  know !  By  the  law  of  Tavan- 
tinsuyu  I  can  be  married  only  to  one  of  royal  blood. 
Manco  holdeth  the  laws  as  sacred  as  the  ancient  rites. 
In  these  perilous  times  he  would  dread  their  violation 


428  THE   CRIMSON    CONQUEST 

as  like  to  provoke  the  wrath  of  Inti.  I  know  not ! " 
she  moaned,  pressing  her  cheek  to  his.  "  I  know  not, 
Cristoval !  " 

The  cavalier's  arm  tightened  in  its  grasp.  "  And  if 
he  should  forbid,"  he  whispered,  sharply,  "  if  he  should, 
then  we  must  fly  again.  Wilt  go  with  me?  " 

"Thou  knowest,  my  own!  But  whither?  The  utter 
most  parts  of  the  empire  would  be  searched." 

"  Once  on  the  coast  —  "  said  Cristoval. 

"  We  should  never  reach  it !  "  she  replied,  pressing  him 
closer.  "  We  should  never  reach  it,  my  love  —  but,  we 
can  die  together." 

They  said  little  more,  but  clung  together  as  if  the 
morrow's  parting  would  be  final.  Minutes  passed,  when 
Cristoval  felt  her  shudder  as  she  raised  her  head  in  a  sud 
den  recollection.  "  Cristoval,  oh,  Cristoval !  "  she  faltered, 
"Father  Valverde  threatened  thee!" 

"  Ah !  "  muttered  the  cavalier,  gloomily.  "  Thou  didst 
guess  his  meaning?  I  hoped  it  had  escaped  thee.  The 
words  were  Latin." 

"  I  know.  I  have  had  time  to  learn  much  since  Xil- 
cala.  But,  oh,  my  heart,  dost  think  he  will  excommunicate 
thee?  " 

Cristoval  hesitated.  "  If  he  should,"  he  said,  with 
courage,  "  thou  'It  pray  for  me,  child.  I  '11  have  no  fear 
that  the  Virgin  will  not  hear  thee." 

"  It  is  dreadful,  dreadful !  "  she  murmured,  sobbing. 

"  Nay :  think  not  of  it.  It  were  more  dreadful,  far,  to 
have  obeyed  his  command  to  leave  thee."  And  in  Cris- 
toval's  mind  an  eternity  in  hell  was  naught  in  comparison. 
The  certainty  itself  would  not  have  forced  him  to  re 
linquish  her. 

It  seemed  but  a  moment  before  her  trusted  maid  came 
to  whisper  that  the  sky  was  growing  light.  A  sweet,  bit 
ter  instant  of  parting,  and  Cristoval  was  alone. 


A   TIE    OF   MINGLED   BLOOD  429 

Before  the  sun  had  touched  his  tent  the  cavalier  heard 
preparations  for  departure, —  hastening  steps,  the  rattle 
of  camp  gear,  and  soon,  the  marching  of  the  escort  and  the 
commands  of  its  officers  as  it  formed  on  the  parade  in  front 
of  the  Inca's  quarters. 

Accompanied  by  Paullo,  Rava  went  first  to  Pedro's 
tent  to  say  farewell. 

"  God  bless  thy  sweet  life ! "  said  Pedro,  weakly,  as 
he  pressed  her  hand.  "  I  shall  miss  thy  visits  sorely  — 
and  another  will  miss  them  more.  But  thy  going  is  sudden 
—  doth  Cristoval  know?" 

Rava  colored,  replying,  "  I  am  on  my  way  to  him 
now,  Pedro.  Shall  I  take  him  a  message?" 

"Why,  my  greetings  to  him  as  a  noble.  Doth  the 
llautu  become  him?  —  No  doubt  of  it!  —  Poor  boy,  poor 
boy!" 

"  But  he  is  hurt  less  than  thou !  "  said  Rava. 

"The  wound  in  his  shoulder?  Ah!  But  he  hath 
another  below  it  —  and  harder  to  cure."  Again  came 
Rava's  color,  and  she  took  her  leave  somewhat  in  haste. 

The  parting  with  Cristoval  taxed  her  to  the  extreme, 
and  only  Paullo's  presence  saved  her  from  breaking  down. 
As  it  was,  her  distress  and  the  cavalier's  depression  were 
apparent  to  the  youth,  and  he  gently  and  wisely  hastened 
her  departure,  but  resolving  to  accompany  her  a  part  of 
the  way  himself. 

Rava  had  never  confided  to  her  younger  brother  her 
attachment  for  Cristoval ;  and  he,  though  staggered  by  the 
revelation  of  it  on  the  night  of  the  rescue,  had  thus  far 
refrained  from  questioning;  but  on  the  journey  with 
Paullo  beside  her  in  her  hamaca,  she  confessed,  with  an 
account,  sufficiently  heartfelt,  of  the  cavalier's  golden  qual 
ities.  The  youth,  already  predisposed  toward  his  brother's 
gallant  ally,  listened  with  sympathy,  promising  to  aid  the 
lovers  to  the  full  in  case  of  the  Inca's  opposition.  He  gave 


430  THE   CRIMSON    CONQUEST 

what  hope  he  could,  though  this  was  slight,  and  Rava  pur 
sued  her  journey  with  heavy  heart. 

To  Cristoval  the  succeeding  days  were  of  torment. 
The  fighting  was  incessant,  and  the  Inca  rarely  at  his 
quarters,  though  he  sent  frequently  to  ask  for  the  two 
Spaniards,  and  to  express  his  good  wishes.  Opportunity 
for  an  interview,  feverishly  awaited  by  the  cavalier,  was 
not  offered,  and  he  tossed  in  an  agony  of  suspense.  At 
last  his  attendant  informed  him  that  Manco  was  in  council 
with  his  generals.  Directing  the  old  man  to  report  their 
departure,  Cristoval  struggled  with  his  impatience.  It 
was  late  when  the  orderly  announced  that  the  council  was 
dissolved. 

"  Give  me  thine  aid,  Tocache,"  said  Cristoval.  "  I 
will  rise." 

"  But,  my  Lord  Cristoval,  you  will  do  yourself  injury," 
deprecated  the  old  man.  "  Whither  would  you  go?  " 

"  To  the  Inca's  tent.  Come!  Help  me  to  my  feet  and 
to  dress." 

"  My  lord  —  " 

"  Nay,  Tocache ;  I  must  go.  I  am  strong  enough, 
man,  and  thou  shalt  lend  me  a  shoulder  to  lean  upon." 

Tocache  demurred  earnestly,  but  shortly  Cristoval  was 
clad  and  sandalled,  and  with  the  other's  support,  left  his 
tent.  The  Inca  was  standing  with  Paullo  and  the  Villac 
Vmu  when  the  sentinel  announced  his  visitor,  and  he 
turned  in  surprise  when  the  cavalier,  uncertain  in  his  steps 
and  quite  pale,  entered  the  tent  and  saluted. 

"  Thou,  my  Lord  Cristoval !  "  exclaimed  Manco,  ad 
vancing.  "  Thou  'rt  welcome,  my  friend,  though  I  fear, 
imprudent.  What  hath  brought  thee  at  this  hour?  —  but 
sit.  Thou  'rt  weak  —  too  weak  to  have  ventured."  He 
led  the  visitor  to  a  chair.  Having  greeted  the  Auqui  and 
the  priest  and  seen  the  Inca  seated,  Cristoval  sank 
into  it.  Manco  observed  him  with  evident  interest  while 


431 

waiting  to  hear  his  errand,  which  proved  a  difficult  one  to 
begin. 

"Sapa  Inca,"  said  Cristoval,  at  last,  unable  in  his 
weakness  fully  to  control  his  voice,  but  approaching  the 
matter  with  his  usual  directness,  "  I  have  come  to  you  con 
cerning  the  Nusta  Rava." 

Manco's  animated  expression  vanished,  and  he  re 
garded  the  cavalier  with  no  sign  of  emotion  as  he  an 
swered,  in  tones  equally  impassive,  "  What  of  the  Nusta 
Rava,  my  lord?  " 

Cristoval  felt  the  ill  omen  of  the  change,  but  did  not 
flinch,  and  his  voice  steadied  at  once.  "  I  have  spoken  to 
you  of  the  Nusta  Rava  before,  my  Lord  Inca,  at  Yucay. 
I  think  you  cannot  be  unprepared  for  what  I  am  about 
to  ask." 

Manco  felt  the  candor  of  his  eyes  and  their  demand 
for  it  from  him.  "  My  Lord  Cristoval,"  he  said,  frankly 
and  regretfully,  "  I  am  not  unprepared  —  for  what  I  fear 
thou  art  about  to  say.  I  confess  to  thee  that  I  have  fore 
seen  this  very  moment,  which  bringeth  me  infinite  pain." 
He  rose  and  crossed  the  tent ;  returned  and  seated  himself. 
"  But,  my  lord,  I  will  not  anticipate  thee.  Thou  wouldst 
ask  —  " 

"  The  hand  of  Rava,  Sapa  Inca,"  replied  Cristoval. 

Manco  looked  upon  him  thoughtfully  before  answer 
ing.  "  It  is  what  I  had  reason  to  expect,  and,  with  mine 
obligation  to  thee,  to  dread.  Thy  service  to  Tavantinsuyu 
hath  been  such  that  any  return  in  my  power  to  make  must 
be  inadequate." 

"  Nay,  pardon  me,  my  Lord  Inca,"  rejoined  Cristoval, 
quickly :  "  I  beg  you  will  not  think  that  in  this  request 
it  is  in  my  thoughts  to  presume  upon  any  service  it  hath 
been  my  fortune  to  render.  That  hath  already  been  doubly 
rewarded  by  this  mark  of  your  confidence*"  He  touched 
the  llautu.  "  I  ask  no  further  return." 


432  THE   CRIMSON   CONQUEST 

"  That  was  not  my  meaning,  my  Lord  Cristoval,"  re 
plied  Manco,  gravely.  "  I  was  about  to  say  that  mine 
obligation  and  gratitude  make  it  hard  to  answer  thy  re 
quest  in  the  way  I  am  compelled.  Compelled  —  for  it  is 
beyond  my  power  to  grant.  It  is  the  ancient  law  of  Tavan- 
tinsuyu  that  a  princess  must  marry  one  of  the  royal  family ; 
or,  in  the  event  of  a  prince  being  wanting,  then  one  of 
nobility  by  birth.  This  law  is  as  old  as  the  empire,  and 
hath  been  violated  but  once.  I  dare  not,  whatever  mine 
inclination,  my  Lord  Cristoval,"  his  eyes  grew  kindly 
"  repeat  its  violation.  My  august  father  set  aside  a  law 
as  ancient  as  this  one,  and  it  hath  been  followed  by  calami 
ties,  of  part  of  which  thou  art  a  witness  to-day.  May  the 
great  Inti  forfend  that  I  do  aught  further  to  provoke  his 
wrath.  I  must  refuse  thee,  my  lord." 

Cristoval  rose  unsteadily,  his  face  more  white  than 
it  had  been  left  by  his  wound.  Manco  rose  and  took  his 
hand.  "  My  friend,"  he  said,  "  believe,  this  grieveth  me  to 
the  heart.  I  thought  to  tell  thee  these  things  when  thou 
didst  plan  to  take  the  Acllahuasi.  I  did  not,  for  I  knew 
well  that  it  would  not  have  altered  thy  purpose,  nor  dulled 
thy  courage." 

"  I  thank  you,  my  Lord  Inca,"  replied  the  cavalier,  and 
added  with  an  effort :  "  I  will  not  urge  aught  that  is 
against  your  conscience  —  God  forbid !  With  your  leave, 
I  will  return  to  my  tent." 

Paullo,  who  had  listened  with  color  coming  and  going, 
stepped  forward.  "  Stay,  Lord  Cristoval !  "  he  cried.  "  All 
hath  not  been  said."  He  snatched  the  vari-colored  ttauitt 
from  Cristoval's  head  and,  his  dark  eyes  blazing,  threw 
it  aside.  While  the  cavalier's  face  flushed  at  the  seeming 
indignity,  and  the  Inca's  with  surprise  and  anger,  he  lifted 
his  own  yellow  diadem  and  placed  it  upon  the  Spaniard's 
brow.  Seizing  Cristoval's  hand,  and  facing  the  Inca  and 
the  Villac  Vmu,  he  said  gravely,  "  My  lords,  I  call  upon 


A   TIE   OF    MINGLED    BLOOD  433 

you  to  witness  that,  by  virtue  of  the  law  of  the  Inca  Tupac 
Yupanqui,  I  claim  brotherhood  with  the  Lord  Cristoval, 
an  Inca  of  Tavantinsuyu  by  Privilege."  He  drew  his  dag 
ger,  and  with  a  quick  movement  slashed  his  own  arm; 
then,  glancing  into  Cristoval's  astonished  eyes,  wounded 
him  at  the  wrist  and,  pressing  together  the  two  gashes, 
joined  the  ruddy  streams.  "  Thus,"  he  continued,  sol 
emnly,  "  have  we  a  mingled  blood !  Only  thine  edict,  Sapa 
Inca,  can  dissolve  this  tie  and  abate  the  princely  rights  of 
the  Auqui  Cristoval,  whom  I  have  made  a  brother." 

It  was  a  long  minute  before  the  monarch  recovered 
from  the  prince's  unexpected  action.  The  pause  was  hardly 
less  dramatic.  Manco  looked  from  one  to  the  other,  bereft 
of  utterance,  while  the  cavalier  stood  silent,  scarcely  com 
prehending  the  significance  of  what  had  happened.  Paullo, 
gripping  Cristoval's  hand,  with  eyes  still  afire,  waited  for 
Manco.  The  Inca's  brow  was  clouded.  Notwithstanding 
his  gratitude  and  friendship,  the  thought  of  admitting  the 
Viracocha  into  the  pure  Incarial  line  taxed  his  generosity. 
Had  Paullo's  move  been  less  impetuous  he  would  have 
arrested  it.  But  the  thing  was  done,  and  to  be  undone  only 
by  his  own  formal  decree.  Erect  and  attentive,  Paullo 
watched  his  brother  with  something  nearing  defiance, 
while  the  Villac  Vmu,  after  his  first  start  of  surprise,  had 
remained  with  his  eyes  upon  the  ground.  To  Cristoval 
the  situation  became  intolerable,  and  he  said  quietly,  dof 
fing  the  yellow  ttaattt  '•  — 

"  Sapa  Inca,  consider  this  as  not  having  occurred,  I 
pray  you.  Could  I  have  anticipated  the  Auqui  Paullo's 
purpose  it  should  have  been  prevented.  —  Paullo,"  he  con 
tinued,  turning  to  the  youth  and  placing  his  hands  upon 
his  shoulders,  "  I  thank  thee  more  for  thy  generous  intent 
than  for  thy  deed.  Thy  good-will  hath  taken  the  lead  of 
thy  sober  judgment ;  but  I  shall  cherish  the  memory  of  it, 
do  thou  be  sure,  and  shall  feel  myself  thy  brother  no  less 

28 


434  THE   CRIMSON   CONQUEST 

dearly  bound  to  thee  than  thou  wouldst  have  made  me. 
My  Lord  Inca  Manco,  I  crave  pardon  for  his  warm 
hearted  folly.  Let  it  end  thus,  and  permit  me  to  retire." 

Manco  regarded  him  with  grave  thoughtfulness, 
wholly  inscrutable.  At  last  he  said  abruptly  to  Paullo, 
"  Assist  the  Lord  Cristoval  to  his  tent,  and  have  the  nobles 
summoned  at  once."  He  bowed  dismissal  and  they  left 
the  tent. 

During  the  remainder  of  the  night  the  grim  old  war 
riors  were  gathered  about  their  young  lord  in  council. 
Toward  dawn  Cristoval  was  roused  by  a  summons.  The 
lamps  were  burning  low  when  he  paused  at  the  door  of 
the  Inca's  tent,  glancing  at  the  circle  of  faces,  some 
familiar,  many  strange,  but  all  turned  toward  him  in  stolid 
dignity  and  silence.  Paullo  greeted  and  led  him  to  the 
Inca.  For  the  solemn  expectancy  about  him,  Cristoval 
might  have  been  approaching  to  receive  the  sentence  of 
death.  Manco  met  his  eyes  in  a  swift  glance,  deep  and 
inscrutable  as  before,  and  took  from  the  Villac  Vmu  the 
yellow  Haute-  He  placed  the  diadem  upon  the  head  of  the 
cavalier,  saying  as  he  did  so :  — 

"  Witness,  my  lords !  and  give  your  homage  to  the 
Auqui  Cristoval.  It  is  my  will." 


CHAPTER  XXXIX 

Again  the  Senora  Descends 

AS  soon  as  Pedro  was  sufficiently  recovered  he  was 
sent  to  Yucay.    On  the  morning  of  his  departure 
the  Inca,  with  Cristoval,  Paullo,  and  Mocho,  en 
tered  his  tent.    Manco  said  farewell  with  a  few 
warm  words  of  commendation  and  gratitude  that  brought 
a  mist  before  the  eyes  of  the  wounded  cook,  unclasping  a 
gorget  of  pearls  and  emeralds.    "  Accept  this,  brave  Vira- 
cocha  Pedro,"  he  said,  "  as  a  part  expression  of  mine  esteem 
and  appreciation.    It  is  but  a  trifle,  but  with  it  goeth  much 
good-will." 

Pedro  gasped  at  the  princely  gift  and  stammered,  part 
in  Quichua,  part  in  Spanish:  "Why,  stew  —  Nay,  Serior 
Inca,  I  deserve  it  not !  I  am  but  a  —  a  comrade  of  this  man 
Cristoval.  What  fighting  I  have  done,  I  tell  you  frankly, 
hath  been  mainly  out  of  friendliness  for  him,  and  for  the 
sake  of  being  along  to  keep  him  out  of  trouble.  This,  my 
Lord  Inca,  is  beyond  my  merits." 

The  Inca  understood  the  gist  of  his  words,  and  shook 
his  head  with  a  slight  smile.  "Not  so,  Viracocha!  Thy 
merit  is  the  greater  for  thy  friendship.  Thou  shalt  keep 
it.  Farewell,  and  a  quick  recovery.  Thou 'It  find  good 
friends  in  Yucay."  He  gave  the  cook  his  hand  and  de 
parted  abruptly  to  avoid  his  thanks. 

Cristoval  remained  after  the  others,  and  Pedro  stared 
at  him  blankly.  At  length  he  said  slowly:  "Now,  spit 
me  through  the  middle  with  a  church-spire  —  I  'd  be  less 


436  THE   CRIMSON    CONQUEST 

surprised !  The  man  is  reckless,  Cristoval,  or  knoweth  not 
the  market-worth  of  gems.  Do  thou  draw  him  aside  and 
advise  him  that  't  is  a  grand-duke's  ransom,  this  bauble, 
and  hand  it  back." 

"Absurd,  Pedro!"  said  Cristoval.  "Rest  thy  mind, 
for  't  is  but  a  part  of  what  he  intendeth  for  thee." 

"  But  I  tell  thee,  Cristoval,  it  will  burden  my  con 
science.  Had  I  come  by  it  in  honest  looting  in  a  Christian 
war  —  but  this  is  akin  to  thievery.  Thou  'It  take  it  back 
to  him,  amigol" 

"  Assuredly  not,  Pedro!    Wouldst  give  him  offence?  " 

Pedro  looked  troubled.  "  He  knoweth  not  its  worth, 
Cristoval.  Moreover,  should  Pizarro  learn  that  I  have  it, 
I  'd  not  be  safe  a  blessed  minute.  I  should  be  invaded, 
overrun  with  fire  and  sword ;  given  up  to  wrack,  sack,  and 
devastation;  left  a  waste  and  ruin  more  ruinous  than  thou 
see'st  me  now.  I  Ve  suffered  losses  a-plenty,  my  friend 
—  not  counting  legs  —  without  this  novel  liability.  Do 
thou  restore  it." 

"  Gods,  thou  'rt  a  worried  cook !  —  for  a  cook  with 
a  fortune  in  hand." 

"  Ah !  "  sighed  Pedro.  "  Crescentem  sequitttr  cura  pectt- 
niam — Horace,  Cristoval.  Meaneth,  care  followeth  upon 
increasing  riches.  Stew  me  —  " 

"  Oh,  Madrel  Have  done  with  thy  plaints.  Now  be 
still  whilst  I  give  thee  a  message  to  Rava." 

"God  bless  her!"  said  Pedro,  and  after  a  pause,  "I 
listen.  But  make  it  not  over  long,  and  prithee,  adapt  its 
terms  to  the  grossness  of  my  texture.  No  endearments, 
Cristoval,  and  no  poetry !  " 

Cristoval  blushed.  "  No,  no !  "  he  said  quickly.  "  It 
will  be  short,  and  suited  to  thy  decorous  taste,  count  upon 
it." 

"  Then  I  '11  compass  it.  But  as  well  put  sugar-lumps 
and  lollipops  in  a  mess  of  boiled  cabbage  as  to  fill  me  with 


AGAIN    THE    SENORA   DESCENDS      437 

blandiments  for  recitation.  I  'm  no  troubadour,  Cristoval. 
Bear  that  in  mind." 

"  No  fear,  thou  Spartan  cook ! "  growled  Cristoval, 
with  a  trace  of  embarrassment.  "  I  intend  it  all  to  be 
prose." 

By  the  time  his  message  ended,  Pedro's  hamaca  and 
escort  were  waiting.  In  parting  the  cook  said  earnestly: 
"  Now,  Cristoval,  in  the  name  of  all  the  names  of  all  the 
saints  on  the  calendar,  have  a  care  for  thyself!  Thou'rt 
as  prone  to  misadventure  as  an  unweaned  calf.  Remember, 
thou  hast  one  to  be  anxious  for  thee  besides  myself  —  and 
relatives!  Dost  know  how  many,  since  thine  adoption?  " 

"  Thou  meanest  —  " 

"  Thy  foster-brothers,  sisters,  cousins,  aunts,  uncles, 
and  what-not  —  dost  know  how  many?" 

"  I  do  not.    I  had  not  thought  of  it,  Pedro." 

"  Not  thought  of  it !  of  course  not,"  returned  Pedro, 
with  irritation.  "  'T  is  what  I  have  said  —  always  charg 
ing  into  trouble,  head  down  and  eyes  shut !  "  He  regarded 
the  cavalier  with  great  disapproval.  "  On  my  soul,  I  know 
not  whether  't  is  prudent  to  leave  thee,  with  thy  capacities 
for  indiscretion!  However  —  well  —  with  the  aid  of  the 
Indio  who  hath  attended  me,  I  Ve  figured  this  multitude 
kin  of  thine,  Cristoval,  and  Heaven  fend  thee  from  ever 
having  them  dependent  upon  thy  support!  Man,  we 
counted  three  hundred,  and  more  to  tally,  and  without 
considering  the  concubines  the  Senor  Inca  is  entitled  by 
law  to  acquire  —  and  all  of  them  royal,  by  the  eternal 
broiler!"  His  expression  changed  to  commiseration. 
"Thou'rt  the  worst  relative-beridden  Christian  in  my 
knowledge,  amigo  !  and  but  one  among  them  who  is  not 
a  pagan !  I  tell  thee,  Cristoval,  if  thou  dost  rightly  by  thy 
family,  thou  'It  give  over  soldiering  and  turn  missionary ! 
But  farewell,  old  friend,  and  God  with  thee !  It  grieveth 
me  to  leave  thee." 


438  THE    CRIMSON    CONQUEST 

Cristoval  watched  the  hamaca  out  of  sight,  stood  look 
ing  into  Pedro's  vacant  tent,  and  returned  slowly  to  his 
own. 

In  the  palace  of  Yucay,  in  a  chamber  from  which  he 
could  overlook  the  verdant  and  beautiful  valley,  ministered 
to  by  solicitous  attendants,  and  visited  by  Rava,  Pedro 
mended  steadily.  His  gentle  hostess  spent  many  hours 
beside  his  couch  with  her  maids  about  her,  busy  with 
embroidery  and  going  white  and  red  over  it  as  he  recounted 
Cristoval's  adventures,  enumerated  his  virtues,  and  mildly 
deprecated  his  rashness.  Rava  had  daily  messages  by 
chasqui  from  her  cavalier,  and  repeated  the  news,  or  brought 
the  bearer  himself.  She  had  not  seen  Cristoval  since  the 
removal  of  the  barrier  between  them,  but  in  her  happiness 
and  implicit  faith  in  her  prayers  for  his  safety,  she  waited 
with  patience  for  what  now  seemed  assured.  Of  the  ulti 
mate  triumph  of  the  arms  of  Tavantinsuyu  she  had  no 
doubt. 

One  morning  she  came  into  Pedro's  room  with  more 
than  usual  animation  and  said  with  a  smile :  "  Pedro,  to 
day  thou  shalt  see  two  of  thy  friends.  I  have  sent  for 
them,  and  have  word  of  their  coming.  Canst  think  who 
they  are?" 

"  Two  friends  of  mine,  Nusta  Rava?  'T  is  easily 
guessed.  One  is  Cristoval,  but  who  the  other  —  " 

Rava  shook  her  head  archly.  "  Not  so  good  a  friend 
as  Cristoval  —  but  I  will  tell  thee.  One  is  Father  Tendilla, 
and  the  other  —  " 

Pedro  rose  suddenly  upon  his  elbow  and  startled  her 
with  his  expression  as  he  whispered  with  explosive  force, 
"Bolio?" 

Rava  surveyed  him  with  concern,  and  replied  gravely : 
"  Father  Tendilla  and  my  dear  Margarita.  I  thought  it 
would  give  thee  pleasure." 

Pedro  sank  back  and  drummed  on  the  coverlet  with 


AGAIN   THE   SENORA   DESCENDS      439 

his  fingers.  "  Oh !  It  doth,  Nusta  Rava.  It  doth  give  me 
pleasure.  So  would  a  fly-blister,  had  I  lumbago  —  a  figure 
of  speech^  Senorita,  give  it  no  weight.  Hum!  The 
sefiora !  "  He  startled  her  again  with  a  spasm  intended 
for  a  smile,  and  resumed  with  some  constraint :  "  Ha ! 
The  sefiora,  did  you  say,  Senorita  Nusta?  Stew  —  Well, 
the  sefiora  is  a  good  soul,  my  head  on  't.  A  bit  rampant 
and  superheated,  look  you,  but  altogether  good-hearted, 
and  I  '11  —  I  '11  be  glad  —  be  glad  to  see  her  once  more  — 
baste  me  with  hot  tallow  if  I  '11  not  —  prithee,  let  that  pass 
too:  it  hath  no  significance.  Infierno I — I  —  I  mean, 
Paraisol  But,"  he  raised  himself  again  and  continued 
earnestly,  "  but,  Nusta  Rava,  would  you  as  lief  have  the 
servants  tell  her  I  am  full  of  holes  and  like  to  leak  red  gore 
in  a  thousand  places  if  so  much  as  a  finger  be  laid  against 
me,  or  my  nerves  be  wrought  upon?  She  is  impulsive, 
Senorita,  surcharged  and  double-shotted  with  impulse,  and 
when  she  findeth  me  in  this  present  state  there  is  no  know 
ing  what  sympathy  may  lead  her  to  say,  or  do.  —  Pure 
exuberance  of  feeling,  mind  you!  but  I  misdoubt  me  if 
my  wasted  frame  would  stand  the  stress.  —  And  kindly 
have  her  told  I  am  subject  to  spells,  of  late,  and  ofttimes 
bite.  And  that  —  but,  no:  never  mind  it  —  I'll  advise 
the  servants  myself."  Pedro  lay  back,  quite  breathless, 
muttering:  "The  sefiora!  The  sefiora!  Ah!  diablo I 
This  is  what  cometh  of  being  —  But  she  is  a  kindly-hearted 
woman,  and  't  would  be  graceless  in  me  to  deny  it." 

Rava,  bewildered  by  his  agitated  effusion,  much  of  it 
in  Spanish,  gathered  that  he  desired  the  senora  to  be 
warned  of  his  enfeebled  condition,  and  having  promised, 
withdrew.  Pedro  lay  the  rest  of  the  morning  starting  at 
faint  sounds  and  perspiring  freely. 

At  mid-afternoon  a  guide,  two  mules  with  riders,  and 
a  baggage-carrier  lightly  burdened,  ascended  the  zig-zag 
road  through  the  park  to  the  palace.  The  leading  animal 


440  THE   CRIMSON    CONQUEST 

was  bestridden  by  a  lady  in  native  attire,  but  wearing  a 
Spanish  sombrero  in  its  last  stages,  riding  with  the  dignity 
of  a  generalisimo,  a  battle-axe  at  her  saddle-bow.  Behind, 
rode  the  good  Father  Tendilla,  his  cassock  yet  more  seedy, 
but  the  same  gentle-visaged  priest.  They  were  received 
with  ceremony  by  a  detachment  of  the  guard,  but  the  lady 
rode  past  with  elevated  chin,  and  followed  the  guide  into 
the  outer  court.  Rava  was  waiting  with  her  attendants. 
Upon  espying  her,  the  senora  emitted  a  shout,  muffled  by 
the  vigor  of  her  exertion  in  dismounting  —  on  the  wrong 
side  —  and  in  a  second  was  embraced,  sombrero  and  all, 
and  joyfully  wept  over,  weeping  herself,  and  quite 
inarticulate. 

"  Oh,  my  honey-jar,  my  lady  bird ! "  cried  the  over 
joyed  senora  in  Spanish.  "  God  bless  thy  dear  heart,  what 
a  happiness  to  see  thee !  But  I  'm  covering  thy  pretty 
robes  with  dust!  Oh,  thou  sweet  baby!  'T  is  thou  — 
and  handsome  as  a  rose !  Dainty  as  a  fairy !  'T  is  good 
for  one's  eyes  to  behold  thee  —  now,  is  it  not,  Father? 
Come,  let  him  see  thee,  love.  Is  she  not  an  angel?  "  The 
senora  stopped  suddenly  and  glanced  sternly  about  the 
court.  "  Ho !  They  Ve  lugged  off  my  mule  and  my 
cleaver  —  " 

"  Thou  'It  have  no  need  for  them,  my  daughter,"  said 
Father  Tendilla,  quickly,  and  gave  Rava  his  blessing.  The 
senora  forgot  mule  and  cleaver  in  a  fresh  outburst  of  de 
light,  and  Rava  presently  led  to  her  apartments.  Here 
the  effervescent  lady  was  struck  by  the  thought  of  Pedro, 
of  whose  wounds  she  had  learned  at  Ollantaytambo,  and 
demanded  to  be  conducted  to  him  forthwith.  Rava  sent 
one  of  her  maids  as  guide.  The  damsel  endeavored  to  give 
warning  of  the  injured  man's  condition;  but  the  senora's 
understanding  of  Quichua  was  limited,  and  her  eagerness, 
moreover,  made  her  deaf,  so  the  words  created  slight 
impression. 


AGAIN   THE   SENORA   DESCENDS      441 

Pedro  heard  the  firm,  rapid  step,  invoked  a  saint,  and 
waited  with  beads  gathering  upon  his  brow.  As  the  lady 
swept  —  nay,  swooped  —  across  the  room  with  a  cry  of 
mingled  joy  and  pity,  the  cook  saw  that  his  precautions 
were  ineffectual.  He  could  have  sworn  that  in  another 
second  he  should  have  been  embraced ;  but  with  rare  pres 
ence  of  mind  he  raised  a  warning  hand,  fetched  a  dismal 
groan,  rolled  his  eyes,  and  gritted  his  teeth  in  so  unearthly 
a  fashion  that  the  lady  was  brought  up  with  a  shriek. 

"God's  mercy,  Pedro!     What  —  " 

"  Sit  down !  "  commanded  Pedro,  in  a  voice  super- 
normally  strong  for  one,  as  he  seemed  to  be,  in  articulo 
extreme  mortis.  "  Sit  down !  —  No !  —  Farther  away !  — 
On  the  floor  —  anywhere  —  but  sit,  woman,  or  I  perish !  " 

He  continued  his  ghastly  symptoms  until  he  saw  the 
senora  seated,  completely  unnerved  but  foiled!  Then 
he  recovered  quickly,  sought  his  kerchief,  wiped  a  clammi 
ness  from  his  forehead,  and  observing  her  pallor,  said 
gently :  "  It  is  past,  Senora.  Be  not  alarmed.  But  hold ! 
Stay  where  thou  art,  or  it  will  come  again.  Move  not  a 
finger!" 

"Santa  Maria!  Pedro,  dear,"  she  said,  tearfully,  "I 
thought  thee  dying.  Thou  'rt  dreadfully  hurt,  my  love?  " 

"  I  am  a  very  sieve,  Senora !  "  replied  Pedro,  in  a  hol 
low  voice.  "  So  full  of  holes  that  I  cannot  cast  a  decent 
shadow !  So  weighted  with  copper  slugs,  leaden  balls,  and 
scraps  of  iron  from  Candia's  guns  that  I  could  be  molten 
up  and  cast  into  a  fair  culverin  of  bronze." 

"  Ah,  pity  of  Heaven !  "  sobbed  the  lady,  rocking  her 
self.  "  I  fear  thou  liest  to  some  extent,  Pedro,  but  I  knew 
harm  was  to  come  of  it  when  I  left  thee  with  that  bandit, 
Cristoval.  But  may  I  not  come  nearer,  chiqaito?" 

"  Presently,"  said  Pedro,  softened,  "  but  approach  by 
easy  stages,  and  not  too  near.  I  am  better,  my  dear.  Take 
heart,  now,  there's  a  good  soul;  and  we  will  talk  — but 


442  THE    CRIMSON    CONQUEST 

at  a  distance,  look  thou !  or  I  '11  be  thrown  into  a  fit.  Hast 
been  well?" 

"  As  well,"  said  the  senora,  drying  her  eyes,  "  as  a 
lone  woman  in  an  infidel  country  with  naught  but  a  cleaver 
to  give  her  courage  o'  nights  and  a  helpless  innocent  of 
a  priest  to  look  after  like  a  baby,  and  not  a  dress  fit  to  put 
on  her  back  save  this,  borrowed  from  a  heathen  woman 
whose  name  I  cannot  pronounce,  could  be." 

"  Ah !  "  said  Pedro,  with  sympathy. 

"  Thou  didst  wrong  to  leave  me,  Pedro,  and  see  what 
it  hath  come  to !  But  who  fired  the  gun  at  thee  ?  I  '11  seek 
him  out,  as  he  liveth ! " 

"  Now,  toast  me  on  a  bodkin !  "  retorted  Pedro.  "  Dost 
fancy  I  went  back  to  ask  his  name?  It  would  have  escaped 
me  by  percolation  had  I  heard  it.  I  was  a-leak  on  all  sides, 
top  and  bottom,  like  a  lobster-pot  fresh-hauled.  So  thor 
oughly  did  he  riddle  me,  Senora,  that  I  could  not  have  held 
a  secret  grief,  or  a  good  intention.  But  let  the  man 
go,  my  dear.  He  that  loaded  the  gun  hath  half  the 
responsibility." 

"  I  '11  find  them  both !  "  said  the  lady,  with  resolution. 

The  entrance  of  Father  Tendilla  ended  the  conversa 
tion,  and  Pedro  heaved  a  sigh  of  relief.  Thereafter,  the 
senora  usurped  the  role  of  nurse,  chiding  him  gently  for 
exaggerating  his  hurts  when  she  learned  their  real  extent, 
but  caring  for  him  faithfully. 

Week  after  week  the  siege  went  on,  fierce,  bloody,  and 
relentless.  Sorties  were  attempted,  savagely  opposed. 
The  defences  of  the  Spaniards  were  assaulted,  fought  over 
with  the  fury  of  hate  and  desperation,  and  the  assailants 
repulsed.  To  the  Peruvians,  the  loss  in  each  attack  was 
sickening,  but  they  returned  with  valor  undaunted,  until 
the  Inca  in  humanity  ordered  a  cessation  and  determined 
to  reduce  the  enemy  by  famine. 

Cristoval,  in  the  meanwhile,  yet  unfit  to  resume  his 


AGAIN   THE   SENORA   DESCENDS      443 

armor,  gave  his  time  to  training  a  number  of  warriors  in 
the  riding  school  and  the  use  of  arms  on  horseback.  Fear 
less,  agile,  and  adaptable,  they  acquired  the  horseman's 
art  with  the  readiness  with  which  it  was  learned  by  the 
tribes  of  the  North  American  plains,  and  by  constant  drill 
the  cavalier  produced  a  squad  of  riders,  equipped  with 
captured  arms  and  mail,  which  was  destined  to  prove  for 
midable.  The  Peruvians,  trained  with  the  battle-axe  and 
shield,  easily  exchanged  these  for  mace  and  buckler;  but 
Cristoval  soon  found  that  for  a  skilful  use  of  the  lance 
months  would  be  required,  and  he  was  forced  to  see  that 
weapon  laid  aside.  Of  all  his  pupils,  none  was  so  apt  as 
the  Inca  Manco. 

Thus  Cristoval  passed  his  convalescence,  striving  by 
incessant  activity  to  hold  his  impatient  longing.  Twice 
only,  after  his  strength  returned,  he  rode  to  Yucay  for 
a  few  brief  hours  of  happiness. 

The  winter  months  passed  and  spring  was  at  hand. 
Within  the  beleaguered  city  conditions  grew  desperate. 
Provisions,  which  had  long  been  growing  scanty,  were 
almost  exhausted,  and  the  Spaniards  faced  starvation. 
They  had  hoped,  watched,  vowed  many  a  pious  vow, 
prayed  many  a  fervent  prayer,  for  reinforcements  from 
the  coast;  but  the  expeditions  sent  by  Francisco  Pizarro 
for  their  relief  had  been  entrapped  in  the  mountains  and 
driven  back  or  annihilated.  A  few  weeks  must  seal  the 
fate  of  the  besieged,  and  Hernando  was  already  importuned 
by  his  cavaliers  to  lead  in  a  final  effort  to  cut  through 
the  investing  lines  and  escape  with  his  starveling  remnant. 
Not  he !  He  swore,  and  the  stoutest  of  his  men  swore  with 
him,  to  fight  while  strength  remained  to  wield  a  blade. 

But  while  the  Spaniards  were  meeting  in  gloomy  coun 
cil  the  Inca  was  confronted  by  a  situation  no  less  grave. 

Near  the  middle  of  a  chill,  clear  night  in  the  early 
spring,  in  the  fifth  month  of  the  siege,  Cristoval,  now  fully 


444 

recovered,  rode  across  the  parade  in  front  of  the  Inca's 
tent,  and  dismissed  his  native  troopers.  For  a  week  he 
had  been  guarding  the  Cuntisuyu  road,  suspecting  a  Span 
ish  design  to  break  through  the  lines.  He  had  laid  off  his 
helmet  when  a  messenger  summoned  him  to  the  Inca. 
Cristoval  found  Manco  alone,  pacing  his  tent  with  bent 
head,  his  face  more  deeply  clouded  than  the  cavalier  had 
ever  seen  it.  His  expression  lightened  at  sight  of  the  man 
who  had  become  nearer  a  comrade  than  any  had  ever  been 
before,  and  he  said  gravely :  "  I  have  sent  for  thee,  Cris 
toval,  to  entrust  thee  with  a  mission  which,  in  other  cir 
cumstances  thou  wouldst  have  found  most  welcome.  Now 
it  will  be  as  painful  to  thee,  I  know,  my  friend  and  brother, 
as  it  is  to  me.  It  is  this.  Thou  wilt  ride  to  Yucay  —  wilt 
set  out  to-night.  Arriving  there,  thou  'It  conduct  the 
household  forthwith  to  the  security  of  the  fortress  at 
Ollantaytambo." 

Cristoval  started.  Was  Yucay  insecure?  In  Heaven's 
name,  what  could  make  it  so,  with  the  Spaniards  held  like 
starving  rats?  Manco  read  his  question,  and  answered 
it  bluntly :  — 

"  We  must  raise  the  siege,  Cristoval !  " 

Cristoval  was  aghast,  unable  to  believe. 

"  We  must  raise  the  siege !  "  repeated  Manco,  steadily. 

Cristoval  put  out  his  hand  for  the  support  of  the 
table.  When  at  last  he  spoke  his  voice  was  harsh  and  un 
natural.  "  Raise  the  siege !  Raise  the  siege  —  at  this  mo 
ment  —  when  victory  is  within  your  grasp?  By  God,  man, 
it  must  not  be!  Who  hath  advised  this  folly?" 

Manco  raised  his  hand.  "  It  must  be !  I  have  held 
council  all  this  day  and  to-night." 

"  Your  counsellors  —  have  they  been  stricken  with 
madness?"  cried  the  cavalier.  "  Do  they  not  know  —  " 

"  My  friend,"  interrupted  the  Inca,  placing  a  hand 
upon  Cristoval's  shoulder,  "  my  counsellors  know  what  it 


AGAIN   THE   SENORA   DESCENDS      445 

is  not  possible  that  thou  shouldst  know  —  that  Tavantin- 
suyu  is  menaced  by  a  foe  more  ruthless  than  the  one  in 
yonder  city.  This  hour  hath  been  long  foreseen,  and  now 
it  is  come.  Hunger  is  abroad ! " 

"  Your  stanchest  ally !  "   interjaculated  Cristoval. 

"  An  ally,  but  one  ready  to  turn  most  cruelly  against 
us!  Hear  me,  Cristoval!  It  is  not  yet  with  us,  with  the 
army,  though  thou  hast  seen  the  meagre  fare  our  braves 
have  had  these  many  days,  and  hast  been  in  want,  thyself. 
But  there  is  a  graver  peril.  Thou  knowest,  the  season  of 
planting  is  at  hand.  The  fields  are  waiting.  Every  pro 
vince  of  the  empire  hath  been  denuded  of  its  men,  and  only 
women,  children,  and  the  feeble,  are  left  to  till  the  soil. 
The  time  is  short,  and  if  the  grain  be  not  sowed,  a  calamity 
will  follow,  blacker  in  its  horror  than  that  of  war,  which 
taketh  only  lives  of  men.  Starvation  recketh  neither  of 
sex  nor  age.  The  siege  must  end." 

Manco  spoke  with  calmness.  His  face  had  paled,  but 
otherwise  his  emotion  was  unbetrayed.  Cristoval  heard 
him  in  silence.  The  Inca's  words,  he  knew,  were  final, 
Rhadamanthine ;  once  spoken,  not  to  be  opposed  by  human 
tongue.  Manco  resumed :  — 

"So  it  must  be,  Cristoval.  The  magazines  are  ex 
hausted —  I  learned  it  finally  to-day,  —  and  even  the 
archers  are  in  need  of  arrows.  My  warriors  will  march  to 
their  provinces  with  famine  attendant,  but  —  they  must 
go.  I  am  defeated!  O,  great  Inti,  why  —  "  His  words 
ended,  and  he  turned  abruptly  away.  Cristoval  sank  into 
a  chair  and  bowed  his  head  upon  his  hands.  To  disband 
the  army  now  would  mean  disaster  irremediable.  He 
sprang  up  with  fiery,  urgent  words,  but  they  were  stayed 
by  Manco  who  faced  him  again  with  every  trace  of  agita 
tion  gone :  "  I  said,  defeated !  Forget  that  the  word  was 
spoken.  Whilst  life  is  spared  me,  and  I  have  a  warrior 
left  to  follow,  there  shall  be  no  defeat.  But  now,  Cristoval, 


446  THE   CRIMSON    CONQUEST 

thou  wilt  go.  By  midday  to-morrow  thou'lt  have 
overtaken  a  force  which  marched  to-day.  At  Yucay,  all 
will  be  in  readiness.  Word  hath  gone  forward,  and  as  soon 
as  the  palace  is  abandoned  it  will  be  stripped  of  all  that 
yonder  vultures  crave.  Having  seen  the  household  safely 
at  Ollantaytambo,  thou  'It  return.  I  will  remain  near 
Cuzco  with  some  force,  for  the  enemy  shall  find  that  peace 
is  not  yet.  Now  go,  and  Heaven  speed  thee.  Farewell." 

As  Cristoval  left  the  tent  he  turned.  The  Inca  stood 
in  thought,  his  dark,  handsome  face  as  calm  as  if  his  brave 
heart  were  untouched  by  disaster,  untorn  by  myriad  cares 
and  sorrows.  He  waved  his  hand,  and  Cristoval  left  him 
to  the  brooding  silence  of  the  night  —  and  God  alone  knows 
what  hours  of  anguish. 

As  the  cavalier  rode  forth  in  the  starlight  he  looked 
upon  a  dark,  prophetic  vision  of  the  future  of  the  fair 
empire  for  which  he  had  been  fighting.  Tavantinsuyu  was 
doomed.  Doomed  —  he  saw  it  now  —  from  the  moment 
Pizarro  had  set  his  foot  upon  its  soil.  The  Spaniards 
would  crowd  to  its  shores  like  ravening  wolves,  and  before 
the  army  could  be  recalled  to  the  field  it  would  be  too  late. 
He  knew  the  indomitable  resolution  of  his  countrymen, 
their  resources,  and  their  driving  rapacity,  too  well  to  hope 
the  Inca  could  ever  regain  the  advantage  now  to  be  put 
aside.  Unless  crushed  at  what  was  yet  its  beginning,  the 
conquest  would  never  be  abandoned.  And  too  thoroughly 
did  Cristoval  know  the  nature  of  his  race  to  foresee  any 
thing  but  cruel  oppression  for  the  conquered.  He  looked 
with  clearer  prevision  than  could  the  stricken  monarch  into 
the  blackness  of  the  years  to  come. 

The  meeting  of  the  lovers  at  Yucay  was  in  joy  and 
grief.  Cristoval  strove  to  inspire  a  hope  he  could  not  share, 
but  when  Rava  took  sorrowful  leave  of  the  palace  it  was 
with  an  intuition  that  she  would  never  enter  it  again.  At 
Ollantaytambo  their  parting  was  in  grief  alone,  and  the 


AGAIN   THE   SENORA   DESCENDS      447 

cavalier  rode  back  to  Cuzco  followed  by  many  a  tearful 
prayer. 

Pedro's  fighting  days  were  done,  and  as  he  stood  on 
the  rampart  of  the  fortress,  watching  his  old  comrade's 
departure,  the  receding  figure  grew  dim  to  him  by  reason 
of  something  more  than  dust  and  distance. 


CHAPTER   XL 
Glory  and  Peace 

WE  shall  be  brief  with  the  last  scenes  of  the 
tragedy    of    Tavantinsuyu.      It    was    night 
when  Cristoval  arrived  at  the  heights  over 
looking  Cuzco,   and  the  city  lay  dark  and 
silent  below.    But  the  vast  circle  of  the  fires  of  the  besieg 
ing  host  sparkled  no  more.    The  army  had  vanished.     He 
found  a  remnant  among  the  hills,  picked  warriors  of  the 
empire,  led  by  Manco,  and  chosen  to  die  in  its  last  burst 
of  glory. 

There  were  long  weeks  of  fighting  about  the  city; 
fierce  dashes  by  the  Spaniards,  driven  by  famine  from  their 
lair  among  the  ruins,  more  fiercely  resisted  by  the  watch 
ful  Manco,  to  be  many  times  hunted  back  with  shattered 
ranks.  The  Inca's  small  body  of  horsemen  grew  as  steeds 
were  captured  from  the  foragers,  and  it  met  the  raiders 
in  more  than  one  sharp  encounter  and  pursuit  ending  only 
in  the  environs  of  the  city. 

But  at  last  came  reinforcements  from  Francisco,  and 
Manco  withdrew  to  Ollantaytambo  to  rest  and  recruit  his 
battle-worn  warriors,  leaving  Cristoval  with  his  riders  and 
a  small  command  of  Antis  to  watch.  Not  many  days  later, 
it  was  learned  from  a  captured  Canare  that  the  Spaniards 
were  planning  an  attack  in  force  on  Ollantaytambo.  As 
sured  of  the  information,  Cristoval  joined  the  Inca  for  its 
defence.  They  had  not  long  to  wait.  With  a  strong  body 
of  cavalry  and  infantry,  Hernando  made  a  stealthy  detour 


GLORY    AND    PEACE  449 

through  the  mountains  in  the  valley  of  the  Urubamba. 
He  approached  the  fortress  under  cover  of  darkness  and 
attacked  at  dawn,  confident  of  taking  it  by  surprise.  Be 
fore  midday  his  column  was  flying  for  Cuzco,  defeated, 
demoralized,  and  in  utter  rout,  with  the  Inca  in  hot 
pursuit. 

Once  more  Cristoval's  band  of  horsemen  and  Mocho's 
Antis  were  scouring  the  valley  of  Cuzco,  lurking  in  the 
hills  and  passes,  striking  now  here,  now  there;  and  inter 
cepting,  scattering,  or  destroying,  the  parties  which  need 
of  food  or  greed  of  plunder  led  from  the  city.  Informed 
by  vigilant  scouts  of  every  move  of  the  enemy,  and  guided 
by  men  familiar  with  every  ravine  and  mountain  trail,  he 
struck  often  and  with  terrible  unexpectedness.  Repeatedly 
the  Pizarros  sent,  and  even  led,  in  chase,  always  fruit 
lessly,  or  with  disaster.  If  the  swift-moving  band  was 
encountered,  it  was  in  some  position  of  its  leader's  own 
choosing  which  more  than  offset  the  Spaniards'  advantage 
of  numbers.  The  cry,  "El  Renegadol"  —  for  so  Cristoval 
became  known  —  grew  to  be  one  of  terror;  and  raised 
suddenly  in  a  party  of  marauders,  it  carried  panic.  Im 
pelled  by  the  wrongs  of  his  adopted  people  —  those  suf 
fered  in  the  past,  and  blacker  ones  which  he  knew  were  to 
follow  —  he  fought  with  reckless  fury. 

One  night,  while  in  bivouac  a  few  leagues  from  Cuzco, 
a  chasqai  brought  Cristoval  a  summons  to  Ollantaytambo 
with  his  command.  The  first  thought  of  the  cavalier  was 
of  the  joy  of  seeing  Rava.  The  next,  an  undefined  dis 
quiet.  Before  dawn  he  was  on  the  march. 

It  was  late  when  he  entered  the  fortress,  to  be  taken 
immediately  to  Manco's  chamber.  Paullo  was  with  the 
Inca,  and  both  embraced  the  cavalier  with  affection, 
the  Inca  adding  a  warm  appreciation  of  his  zeal  and 
intrepidity.  Paullo  retired  to  apprise  Rava.  Manco  re 
garded  the  march-stained  soldier  in  rusty  armor  and  said 

29 


450  THE   CRIMSON    CONQUEST 

with  less  than  his  usual  calm,  but  without  the  former 
gloom :  — 

"  Cristoval,  my  brother,  I  have  sent  for  thee  to  entrust 
another  mission.  Once  more  thou  wilt  take  my  loved  ones 
to  a  place  of  safety.  At  dawn  I  leave  with  a  few  followers 
for  a  stronghold  in  the  mountains  of  Apurimac,  there  to 
await  the  moment  for  reassembling  my  army.  For  the 
present,  Ollantaytambo  must  be  abandoned,  and  my  few 
remaining  troops  disbanded.  My  last  granary,  my  last 
armory,  my  last  resource,  have  been  exhausted.  —  But,  my 
friend,"  he  went  on,  with  increased  energy,  and  taking 
the  cavalier  by  the  arm,  "  think  not  that  Manco  hath  suc 
cumbed  !  —  nor  that  his  sword  will  sleep  through  the 
months  of  waiting." 

"  Then  I  should  be  among  your  followers,  my  lord," 
said  Cristoval. 

"  Nay !  Thou  'It  serve  me  better  for  the  present  in 
another  way.  Safeguard  my  dear  ones.  It  is  a  trust  which 
I  can  confide  to  thee  as  to  none  other.  Paullo  is  but  a  boy. 
I  ask  the  greatest  service  thou  canst  render,  for  thy  sword, 
now,  can  aid  me  little." 

"  But  when  the  time  cometh  — " 

"  Then  I  will  call  upon  it,  brave  Cristoval,"  replied 
Maneo,  taking  his  hand.  "  But  now,  concerning  a  refuge: 
I  have  thought  of  Xilcala.  I  was  there  when  a  boy." 

Cristoval  flushed  with  sudden  feeling,  and  the  valley 
with  all  its  beauty,  its  dear  associations  and  memories,  rose 
before  him. 

"  It  is  remote  from  Cuzco,"  continued  Manco ;  "  and 
as  I  remember  it,  could  be  easily  defended." 

"  A  handful  of  men  could  hold  it  against  an  army," 
replied  Cristoval,  positively. 

"  Then  to  Xilcala,  and  Heaven  guide  thy  way !  Mocho 
will  escort  with  his  Antis,  and  thou  'It  take  thy  riders, 
to  hold  them  there  until  I  call  thee.  They  cannot  serve 


GLORY   AND   PEACE  451 

me  now,  for  I  shall  be  in  the  mountains.  Mocho  will  join 
me  with  his  men  in  Apurimac.  And  now,  go  to  Rava, 
who  will  be  waiting.  I  will  be  with  you  in  an  hour."  He 
paused,  and  regarding  the  cavalier  earnestly,  added,  "I 
would,  Cristoval,  see  you  both  happy  —  before  I  say 
farewell." 

Cristoval  flushed  again.  "  God  bless  thee,  Manco!  — 
God  bless  thee !  I  —  I  will  say  a  word  to  Rava." 

Rava  waited  alone.  As  far  as  her  door,  but  not  be 
yond,  we  will  follow  the  eager  steps  of  Cristoval,  then 
await,  with  what  patience  we  may,  the  consequence  of  their 
meeting  and  tender  duologue. 

And  the  consequence  was  this.  Within  the  hour 
Cristoval  tore  himself  away,  and  in  a  condition  of  agree 
able  agitation,  sought  Pedro,  who  had  expected  his  com 
rade's  arrival,  and  had  not  retired.  The  cavalier's  mood, 
as  infectious  as  it  was  agreeable,  seized  upon  the  cook; 
and  the  cook,  after  interjections  of  the  sort  peculiar  to 
himself  stumped  out  in  quest  of  Father  Tendilla.  The 
good  priest  was  asleep,  but  straightway  became  broad 
awake,  fell  prey  to  the  infection,  and  arose  precipitately. 
From  Father  Tendilla,  Pedro  went  to  the  door  of 
Senora  Bolio,  not  without  trepidation.  The  Seriora  was 
likewise  asleep,  but  after  the  fourth  knock  came  to  the 
door  —  far  from  being  forgetful  of  her  cleaver  —  and 
opened  it  to  the  slight  degree  consistent  with  mod 
esty,  or  caution,  or  both.  Pedro  imparted  his  item  of 
intelligence. 

The  senora  uttered  a  cry  of  delight,  and,  both  incau 
tiously  and  immodestly,  threw  wide  the  door.  "  Is  it  so, 
Pedro?  Is  it  so?  Oh,  the  dear  angel  of  a  girl!  Oh, 
Pedro,  thou  'rt  the  best  and  wisest  of  men ! "  And  in  the 
exuberance  of  her  joy  the  worst  befell  Pedro.  He  was 
embraced.  "  Pedro,  thou  'rt  a  love!  " 

"  Fiends,  woman !  "  cried  the  cook,  wrenching  himself 


452  THE   CRIMSON    CONQUEST 

free,  "'tis  no  doing  of  mine!  They  brought  it  upon 
themselves." 

"  Oh,  do  I  not  know  that,  thou  simple !  But  had  it 
not  been  for  thee,  they  never  would!  I  will  come  at 
once,  Pedro,  dear." 

Pedro  retired,  not  only  agitated,  but  disarranged,  men 
tally  and  otherwise. 

Between  midnight  and  dawn,  within  the  dim,  starlit 
ramparts  of  the  ancient  stronghold  of  Ollanta,  was  a 
Christian  wedding.  Strange  the  place,  yet  more  strange 
the  assemblage  gathered  to  witness:  A  stern-visaged 
young  pagan  monarch  with  softened  eyes  beaming  beneath 
a  crimson  llatttu ;  about  him,  a  score  of  grim,  war-worn 
nobles  of  Tavantinsuyu  with  scars  fresh  from  recent  con 
flict;  a  throng  of  dark-haired  women  in  loose-flowing 
robes  and  adorned  with  barbaric  splendor.  A  Spaniard 
with  but  one  leg,  and  a  Spanish  senora  were  there;  the 
former  glowing  pleasantly  with  the  sentiments  of  a  genial 
heart;  the  other  weeping  with  that  mixture  of  feminine 
emotions  inspired  by  such  occasions,  which  must  forever 
remain  inscrutable  to  man. 

Again  a  declining  day  in  the  fair  Vale  of  Xilcala. 
Approaching  by  the  gorge  and  nearing  its  head,  is  a 
column  of  the  Inca's  warriors,  some  of  them  mounted  and 
clad  in  Viracocha  mail,  and  escorting  a  train  of  hamacas- 
It  is  led  by  a  cavalier  whose  armor  bears  many  a  mark  of 
hostile  blade  unknown  when  he  rode  out  from  the  valley, 
long  and  stormy  months  ago.  The  command  halts  at  his 
signal,  and  riding  back  to  one  of  the  hamacas,  he  dismounts 
and  assists  its  precious  burden  to  alight.  Together  they 
walk  forward  to  the  edge  of  the  lake,  and  Rava  looks  long 
and  dreamily  over  its  unruffled  surface  and  mirrored  moun 
tains.  There  is  the  rocky  promontory  with  its  crowning 
of  roofs  and  soft-gleaming  walls;  the  gently-sloping 


GLORY    AND    PEACE  453 

shores  with  their  fields  and  groves ;  the  andenes  clinging  to 
the  lower  steeps,  and  the  pinnacles  towering  above;  and 
far  across  the  valley,  a  hazy  canyon  from  which  these  two 
—  long  ago,  it  seems  to  them  now  —  looked  out  over  the 
welcome  peacefulness.  The  sheltering  peaks  are  touched 
with  rose;  blue,  transparent  shadows  are  stealing  up  the 
eastern  scarp;  and  across  the  still  reflections  creeps  one 
thin,  silvery  arrow  in  the  wake  of  a  balsa  urged  shoreward 
by  a  fisherman.  His  distant,  plaintive  song  floats  across 
the  lake  and  breaks  into  the  murmur  of  the  near-by  stream. 
No  other  movement  in  all  the  tranquillity ;  no  other  sound, 
unless  the  whispered,  liquid  notes  of  the  rippling  on  the 
pebbles  of  the  beach. 

Rava  sighs,  "  Oh,  Cristoval,  is  it  not  beautiful ! " 
"  Most  fair !  "   says  the  cavalier,  as  he  said  long  ago, 
and  passes  a  steel-clad  arm  about  her  as  he  meets  the  deep 
eyes,  now  brimming. 

There  they  dwelt  —  Cristoval  and  Rava  —  remote 
from  the  dreary  scenes  of  the  wars  among  the  Spaniards 
which  followed  close  upon  the  fall  of  the  Empire  of  the 
Incas.  They  found  peace  and  happiness  in  a  love  endur 
ing  as  their  lives.  Happiness,  it  is  true,  with  a  deep,  life 
long  undertone  of  grief,  for  Tavantinsuyu  and  its  last  Inca ; 
but  their  sorrow  drew  them  nearer,  as  sorrow  must.  They 
found,  too,  palliative  in  alleviating  many  an  ill  brought 
upon  the  people  outside  their  valley  by  the  subjugation, 
and  the  twain  —  after  their  marriage,  the  Autauchi  Cris 
toval  and  the  Palla  Rava  — are  remembered  in  undying 
tradition. 

There,  withal,  dwelt  Pedro,  beloved  comrade  of  Cris 
toval,  and  his  genial  head  was  silvered  for  many  a  long 
year.  And  all  the  children  of  the  valley,  when,  from  Father 
Tendilla  —  who  gathered  his  last  flock  in  Xilcala  —  they 
had  learned  about  the  saints,  fixed  upon  Pedro  as  the  vicar 


454  THE    CRIMSON    CONQUEST 

of  the  Patron  Saint  of  childhood.  There,  moreover,  dwelt 
the  senora,  the  guardian  angel  of  Pedro.  A  somewhat 
surcharged  and  superheated  guardian  angel,  perhaps,  but 
gradually  moderating,  under  the  influence  of  the  repose 
of  the  valley,  to  a  mild  and  kindly  warmth.  On  one  or 
more  occasions,  in  the  early  days,  she  requested  Pedro's 
hand  in  marriage  with  affectionate  impetuosity;  but  he 
gently  though  firmly  refused,  and  compromised  with  a 
promise  never  to  leave  the  valley  by  stealth. 

And  in  support  of  all  which  precedeth  thou  mayst  find, 
Reader,  in  that  peaceful  valley,  the  Palado  del  Autauchi 
Cristobal;  and  in  its  great  hall  two  suits  of  armor,  side  by 
side,  one  perfect  the  other  wanting  in  a  jambe  and  solleret. 
They  are  cherished  with  almost  equal  pride  and  reverence 
by  the  De  Peraltas,  who  dwell  there  still,  and  from  whom 
thou  mayst  learn,  though  it  may  be  with  less  detail,  the 
history  which  endeth  here. 


THE    END 


DATE  DUE 


;-  '       1      "  

J^S 

^        M/fr  2      1973 

R2C 

D  MAY  8      ' 

S/8 

CAYLORD 

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